The Abbot
by ladysupergirl
Summary: Abbot Cellach made many mistakes, but he always had Brendan's best interests at heart. A look at the Abbot's thoughts from the prologue comic through the end of the film. Lots of Brendan & Cellach bonding moments because I'm a sucker for those!
1. The Rescue

The Abbot

 _Abbot Cellach is by far my favorite character in Secret of Kells. He's delightfully complex, and to really understand him, you need to go read the free prologue comic on Comixology. Go ahead. I'll wait._

Chapter One: The Rescue

"Cellach! Vikings are attacking the village!"

I run out the door before he can take another breath. My sister… my nephew… Everyone I care about is in the village. I've heard the stories of these Northmen. They leave no one alive, young or old.

The pathway to the village has never seemed so long. I urge my horse forward, faster, _faster_ , but it's not enough. When I arrive, there is no longer a village, but an inferno. Every home burning. Flames crackle and hiss, but I hear no voices, no screams, no clashing of weapons. I am already too late.

But I cannot turn away. If there's any chance my family is alive… The village lies on a small island, with only one entrance across the bridge. It is madness to cross… If any Vikings remain, they will see me.

I cross the bridge. Closer now, I see dark shapes moving through the remnants of this place. The Northmen are here. I bend almost double and dart around each hut, waiting to be caught. But by some miracle, I make it to my sister's home unharmed. As I grow closer, I can hear a baby screaming in terror. _Brendan._ He still lives… but what is tormenting him so? Are the Vikings inside, even now?

I crack the door open and peer inside. No Vikings. Brendan cries from his cradle in the center of the room… Alone.

I know what that means even before I step inside. She's gone. She's already gone, or else she would never leave him here.

I know it, but I don't believe it. Not even when I step inside and there she is, my beautiful beloved sister, soaking in a pool of her own blood. In her hand, she clutches a sword. Across from her, her husband is motionless, propped against the wall, an axe in his hand, and a spear in his gut.

It's a dream. A nightmare. Just yesterday, all of us supped together in this very hut. We talked and laughed and Ceather showed me Brendan's first tooth.

I want to fall on my knees and scream. But there's no time for that. The hut burns, and Brendan cries. I kneel beside his cradle, raising a finger to my lips. "Hush, little Brendan!"

He recognizes me. His eyes light up and he reaches to be held. He's far too young to understand what has happened here… May he never remember this day. I lift him into my arms.

The roof crackles. A beam falls. The building is collapsing. I hold Brendan tightly and run for the door. I have to jump for it to get out in time… but we make it. The hut is nothing more than a bonfire.

My sister and brother-in-law are still in there… I could not even save their bodies. But it's almost as if I can hear their voices, _Quickly! Take Brendan and go!_

I run for the bridge, Brendan cooing happily in my arms. Thank goodness he is so quiet, we might have a chance…

And then a Viking emerges from the smoke ahead of me. I dart away, only to meet another Northmen. Then a third. We are trapped. I spin about, looking desperately for an escape route. Among our people, I am considered a giant, but all of these men dwarf me. Their swords glow red with reflected flames, and I am unarmed.

 _I'm sorry, Brendan._ This may be the end. A Viking seizes me and his compatriot rips Brendan away. My nephew's face twists with fear and he reaches for me. I reach back. My captor slices open my cheek with one flick of his blade.

Brendan wails in terror as the Northman holds him high over his head. He means to kill the baby while I watch.

My eyes narrow. I've already lost my sister today. I will not lose Brendan too.

I grip my captor's arm with all my strength and hurl him forward. He flies through the air and crashes into the third Viking. In the collision, one sword catapults free. In a second it's in my hands. I've lost sight now of my nephew through the smoke, but I run towards his cries.

"Brendan!"

The Viking still holds Brendan high in the air, and now his sword is raised too. He tilts the blade towards the baby. His message is clear…. _Don't come any closer._

I clench the sword tighter. In my youth, the village expected me to grow to be a warrior… I had the build for it, they said. That was never my calling, but in this moment, it's as if my life had gone differently… As if I'd gone down another path and learned the art of war. In a moment, I stab the Viking through the chest. As he screams and falls back, he flings Brendan into the air.

I spring forward, arms stretched out, and somehow catch him before he is harmed. Brendan is screaming now, shaking with fear. More Vikings will seek us at any moment. I sprint for the bridge.

But… there is no bridge. It's burned away and fallen into the river.

I risk one glance back. Swarms of Northmen run toward us now. I dive into the river.

It would be far safer to swim underwater, away from their view. But little Brendan knows nothing of swimming. He will breathe in the water unless I bring him to the surface. I do, staying as low as I can. At last we reach the bank.

The Northmen do not follow. I flee into the forest and mount my horse. Again, the beast can't seem to move fast enough. Surely the Northmen will be on us soon.

It is not until we are deep, deep in the forest that I am sure we are safe. For whatever reason, we were not followed. Probably not worth their time to hunt down a monk and a baby, when all they are after is gold.

We are safe. We are alive. Brendan sleeps peacefully in my arms.

Even now, my sister is turning to ashes.

At last, in the silence of the forest, I succumb to tears.


	2. The Choice

Chapter Two: The Choice

The rest of our journey home is a fog.

Somehow I make it back to the Abbey. My brothers meet me with anxious questions about the village. Somehow I tell them it's gone, all gone. They want to dress the wound on my face, but I brush them away. If they'd seen the carnage I'd seen, they would understand this is nothing—it will heal.

I seclude myself in my cell, cradling Brendan as he sleeps.

I don't sleep. I can still see Ceather before me, limp and pale and surrounded by so much red…

And then, suddenly she is before me. Healthy and happy and whole, smiling as she brushes Brendan's hair off his forehead. She presses a gentle kiss across his brow. "Be good, little one." She smiles up at me now. "Thank you, Cellach." She rests her hand on my arm. "Take good care of him."

"Ceather," I say, reaching out for her.

The door creaks, and I jerk awake. Outside my room there are whispers, but no one comes in.

In the morning, Brendan is restless and begins to cry. He's probably hungry. What does one feed a child this young? I've watched Ceather feed him a thousand times but I can't remember a single thing she prepared for him. I can't remember much of anything. I carry Brendan to the kitchens, and another brother with more experience than I provides a bowl of bread and milk.

Abbot Fineas seeks me out there as I'm attempting to spoon food into Brendan's mouth. "Brother Cellach," he says gravely. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly it is a miracle that you were able to save the child."

"Yes," I say. "I only wish…" My throat closes off. I shake my head and try to focus on the baby.

The Abbot takes a good look at my face and winces. "We must attend to that wound."

"I'm fine." It will heal. Ceather's wounds never will.

"No, you're not. You need to visit the infirmary."

I ignore him. Brendan accepts a bite of food, waving his arms triumphantly as he does.

The Abbot hesitates. "Brother," he says softly, "do you… would you like help, making arrangements for the baby?"

"Arrangements?" I can't think what he means.

"I have sent messengers to all the surrounding villages to warn them of the danger," the Abbot says. "I… I have asked them to spread word that there is a small child in need. With our village gone, I thought…"

"A small child in need?" I ask. "In need of what?" I suppose that all of his things are gone, burnt up along with… everything else. I make a wild swing with the spoon that misses Brendan entirely, much to the child's delight. He laughs and claps his hands.

"Cellach," the Abbot speaks slowly, patiently. "The child is alone now. He needs a family to take him in."

Every word of that sinks in, one at a time. I whip around to face him. "I _am_ his family."

"I know that," the Abbot says. "We'll find a place near an Abbey. You'll be able to visit him as before, as often as you—"

"No," I say. "He isn't going anywhere. He's staying with me."

The Abbot steeples his fingers together. "Cellach… you don't know much about raising a baby. None of us do, here. It would be very difficult for one so young to grow up in an Abbey."

Brendan blinks up at me, a smile on his little face. He tries to grab the spoon away from me.

Trust his care to a stranger? How could I trust them to nurture him the way Ceather did? What if they mistreated him because he wasn't their own? What if his new village burned and I wasn't there in time to save him?

I don't realize I'm sobbing until the Abbot touches my shoulder.

Brendan is frightened. His face contorts and he starts wailing, too. I set aside the bowl and spoon and hold him close.

I don't know anything about being a father. But I do know that I can't bear the thought of Brendan out of my sight. I can't send him away.

"He's the only family I have left, Abbot." My voice comes out more powerfully than I intended. "I won't be parted from him."

"All right, Cellach." The Abbot's voice is soothing now. "It's your choice. You are the boy's uncle. We will do our best to help you." He stands to take his leave. "I'll send a brother to tend to your wound."

I soon learn how very much I need the help. The poor babe spends most of his day in tears. Ceather could tell from Brendan's slightest cry what the boy needed. I can't. Is he hungry? Tired? Missing his mother? There is nothing I can do for that.

It doesn't help that I am still in a stupor, exhausted and heartbroken and barely able to keep moving. Dimly I'm aware of the other brothers coping with the attack-praying for the dead, debating whether it's safe to visit the ruins, debating our safety at the Abbey... but all I can focus on is the little boy in my arms. I can't bear more than that.

My brothers help me. Some of them are quite good with babies, having learned from years in big families, or from nephews and nieces of their own. Some of them lost all their loved ones yesterday, but somehow they still have the strength to rock Brendan, to show me tips on getting a baby to eat, to play with him and get him to laugh.

I'm watching Brother Liam entertain Brendan with a feather quill when it really hits me… I don't know how to do this. I have never been good with children. It was one thing to visit him in the village, to have Ceather there to teach me how to hold him and how to play with him, but on my own… I'm at a loss.

Would Brendan be better off if I found another home for him? The thought sends stabbing pains through my chest. I can't imagine parting from him… but what's best for Brendan? Would he be happier in another's care?

Is it… unfair of me to keep him?

"I can watch him if you want to go rest," Brother Liam says. "You look as if you're about to drop."

I'm not sure I'll ever be able to sleep again. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in Ceather's hut. But I nod and mumble something. I'm not thinking clearly. Maybe if I do lie down for a bit… I shuffle towards my cell.

I have barely left the room when Brendan erupts into frantic sobbing.

I turn back. Brendan stretches out his arms to me, wailing.

Brother Liam passes him back to me with a faint smile. "Ah, it's clear who his favorite is. Maybe you best keep him with you."

Brendan settles against my chest, his cries fading to soft whimpers. I rub his back, shushing him. "It's all right, Brendan. I'm here. I'm here." A tiny smile creeps over my face. He doesn't want to be parted from me, either.

I take him with me back to my cell. Maybe we can both get some rest. I recline on the bed, bouncing Brendan gently in my arms. "What do you think, Brendan?" I ask. "What would you choose, if you could?" He's sucking his thumb now, looking up at me. "If… if you went to live with another family, you might have brothers and sisters to play with. Parents again who know how to raise children. An easier childhood than if you stay with me… unless…" I sigh. "Unless the family is unkind to you." Brendan watches me so intently, it's almost as if he understands. Maybe, at least, he can tell I'm saying something important. "I don't know how to be a father, Brendan. I don't know how to take care of a baby. But I can learn. If you stay with me, I'll do my best. I don't want to send you away. I want to keep you with me, so I know that you're taken care of, so I know that you're happy and that you're safe. But… I can't promise that I'll do a good job." What would Ceather have wanted? I remember my dream last night. _Take good care of him._ Despite all my faults and failings… I do think I'm the one she'd trust most to watch over her baby.

Brendan pats his hand against my chest. "Unc," he says.

It's not the first time he's ever said it. Ceather coached him for months before he learned. But it's the first word he's uttered since I found him in the hut.

"Unc?" I say softly. "You want to stay with me?" I know he can't possibly understand me.

Still, he snuggles up closer to me and says it again. "Unc."

"That's what I want too." I rub his back. He yawns and drifts off to sleep.

In this day of grief and pain, this moment feels… right, somehow. Brendan, warm and alive and safe, resting against me. The two of us, the last living remnants of our family, facing the future together.

An infancy in an abbey will not be an easy one. But the brothers are kind. Hopefully Brendan can be happy here.

If the Northmen come again, I don't want him farther than an arm's length away from me.


	3. Remembering

Chapter Three: Remembering

 _Three years after the attack_

Brendan is at an age now where he is always brimming with questions.

"Why is the sky blue, Uncle Cellach? Why do the other brothers call you 'Brother' instead of 'Uncle'? Where did your hair go?"

I try to be patient with his endless stream of questions. I can't seem to teach him to recognize when I am working and I cannot talk. Many of the other brothers are more patient with him that I am. The truth is, I have never been gifted with children. I try to be better. I remember dear Ceather and her infinite patience with him as a baby. I can never recapture that, quite, but I do try.

I am sketching plans one day when I feel a tug on my robes. Brendan is beside me, his eyes large and tearful.

I kneel to brush the tears off his cheek. "What happened, Brendan? Are you all right?"

He shakes his head.

"Did one of the other children hurt you?"

I saw him earlier today, visiting with some of the other little ones in the village.

"No." He sniffs loudly. "Uncle Cellach…. Why don't I have a mother and father like the other children?"

Oh. Oh no. "You do have a mother and father, Brendan, remember? They are in heaven now, but they watch over you. They love you very much."

"Then why aren't they here?" Brendan is sobbing now. "Why did they go away? Don't… don't they want to be with me?"

Oh, I am not ready for this. Is he ready for this? He is still so small.

Of course we talk of his parents. I tell him stories of Ceather and Bronach. We've talked of heaven where they are now. He knows that they have died.

He understands that the outside is dangerous, and that the wall will keep us safe. He's heard some talk of the Northmen, although I doubt he understands what they are.

But I have never told him of his parents' murder. How could I? I can barely stand to remember that day myself. To put that burden on a child…

I sigh, sitting back at my desk. I lift Brendan onto my knee. "Of course they want to be with you," I say. "They… they are here with you, watching you always, even when you can't see them."

"I _want_ to see them!" Brendan says. He rubs a little hand under his running nose.

"I know. I do too." I take a deep breath. I wish Ceather was here now to speak words of comfort to her son. But if she was…. He wouldn't need the comfort, would he? I make my voice as gentle as I can. "Your parents didn't want to leave you. When you were very small…. Bad men came to your village."

Brendan's eyes widen.

"They… they tried to hurt you." I hold him close, rocking him. "Your parents died protecting you."

His eyebrows scrunch together. "Was it my fault they died?"

"No! Of course not!" I'm doing this all wrong. "The… the bad men, they like to hurt people. They would have hurt your parents, no matter what. But your parents protected you."

I have wondered, on occasion, why Brendan was still alive when I arrived in the village. I am grateful beyond measure that he was. But why did the Northmen spare him when they slew his parents? It was not out of any Northman's mercy. No, age does not matter to them. They spared no one in the village, young or old.

I suppose there was no need to kill the baby. It may have even… I shudder, repulsed even to think about it… it may even have been more merciful to run him through, than to leave him to an agonizing burning death in the flames.

I choose to believe that Brendan was spared because of his parents. They died fighting, there is no question of that. I am sure they acted to protect their son. I do not know everything that happened that day, but I believe that young Brendan would not have lived without their last brave sacrifice.

"How do you know?" Brendan asks. "Were you there?"

"I…found you… after." My eyes are suddenly wet, remembering that day. "I took you away from the bad men and kept you safe."

"You saved me?" Brendan asks. His tears are slowing. His eyes are full of wonder now.

"Yes." I hesitate. I don't want to be prideful and inflate myself in his eyes, but at the same time… I can't deny that I want to be his hero. "Your parents saved you too."

"Will the bad men come back?"

How to explain this to one so young? "They might," I say carefully, "but that is why we build the wall. To keep out the bad men, so all of us are safe." Brendan's face is pinched up with worry now. "Brendan, don't be afraid. I am here. I will never let anything happen to you. That's a promise."

"You'll keep away the bad men?" Brendan says.

"I'll keep you safe from the bad men," I say.

Brendan snuggles against me. I rub his back, sighing again. I will keep him safe. Somehow, I will. Even if I have to battle Vikings again to do it.


	4. The Wall Waits

Chapter Four: Drawing Lessons

 _4 years after the attack_

When I'm in my workroom, Brendan stays with me. But when I'm working on the wall, he spends his time in the scriptorium. It's not safe for him to be running about on the scaffolding yet. Maybe when he's a little older.

Unfortunately, most of the brothers spend the majority of their time in the scriptorium too. They have not quite caught the vision of the wall yet… despite my best efforts.

I come in one day to find Brendan sprawled on the ground, a parchment spread before him and a quill smashed in his little fist. He's tracing loops of ink with abandon.

"Brendan!" He freezes, then looks up at me, eyes wide. "Those are not for playing! Those are for the brothers!"

Brother Leonardo stands up, arms spread out. "Abbot Cellach, I explain. The boy asked if he could—"

"Well, he can't," I say. "We can't waste our supplies this way."

Brendan's head droops. He lowers the quill to the floor.

Brother Square speaks up now. "He just wants to learn the fine art of illumination."

"He's a child," I say, "There will time enough for that much later on. Brendan—"

His lip is quivering. His eyes are beginning to flood.

I sigh. Why did they tell him he could draw? They know our supplies are limited. They know a young child could easily get carried away and waste scores of pages on nothing but whimsy.

Now, I appear to be the villain.

I take Brendan's hand. "Come along, Brendan. I need you in my workroom." When he stands, I can see that he's splattered ink on his robes.

Brother Tang comes forward to gather Brendan's supplies. All the brothers are solemn and silent as we walk away. Why do they look at me like that? They know the worth of our parchment, and what it is to be used for. They are always speaking of their precious books.

"Uncle?" Brendan's voice is muffled. He keeps his head bent. "Why can't I draw like the other brothers?"

"You're too young, Brendan," I say. "Maybe when you're older." Maybe, once the wall is finished and we have the safety and leisure to work on illuminating.

"I'm not a child," Brendan says softly.

I stop for a moment. My mouth twitches into a smile despite myself. The boy doesn't yet come up to my knee. I have to stoop over to reach his hand. "Yes, you are. But there is no shame in that. Everyone is a child, for a while."

"Not me!" Brendan pleads. "I am a brother, just like the other brothers! I live here and I work here and I do what the brothers do… except when people say I am too small. Brother Tang is small, but he can draw."

"Brother Tang is a lot older than you," I say. I pull him along towards the tower.

"I wasn't playing," Brendan whispers. "I don't play. I was working. I was helping."

Something in those words pierces me through the chest. I stop again, looking down at him. He looks up at me with heartbreak etched into his face, and for an instant, he reminds me so much of his mother that I have to look away.

I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger. I am not cut out to be a father. Brendan is trapped in a place no child should be trapped. Raised as a monk and treated as a monk, so he does not get to run and play as a child should. But much too young to be a brother, not able to be part of the Abbey the way the monks are.

Somewhere, Ceather is not pleased with me.

I kneel down and lean forward, bringing myself to Brendan's eye level. "Brendan… You are too young to draw on parchment. But… maybe there's another way you can learn."

"There is?"

We go to my workroom. I dig beneath my plans and find a small slate and a piece of chalk.

Brendan takes the chalk reverently. "Like you use for your drawings," he says, pointing at the designs I've scrawled across the walls and floor.

"Yes." A thought occurs to me. "Brendan, you must never draw on my work in this room, do you understand? This," I tap the slate, "this is where you can draw, but the walls and the floor here are only for me."

Brendan nods. "Yes, Uncle."

"If you draw where you're not supposed to, I will have to take your chalk away."

"I won't, Uncle, I promise!" His eyes shine as he reaches for the slate.

He sits on the floor sketching happily while I work on my plans. But it's not long before I feel a tug on my robes. "Yes, Brendan?"

He hands me the slate, filled with some sort of childish scribble… People, maybe? That blob could be a head, maybe these squiggles are arms. "I need a new one, please. This one is full."

Ah. "Slates are different than parchment," I say. "You can wipe them clean and draw something new, see?" I rub my hand across the drawings. I'm tempted to use my sleeve, but I don't want to teach him bad habits.

Brendan is slightly crestfallen that I've destroyed his work. "The brothers say their drawings will last forever."

"Someday, yours will too," I say. "Keep practicing." I hand back the slate and turn back to my papers.

Brendan tugs my sleeve again. "Uncle?"

"Yes?"

He doesn't answer. I look down at him. He stands with one foot twisted behind the other, his hands behind his back and his head tilted down. "Will you…" he mutters something I can't hear.

"What is it, Brendan?" My plans are calling to me. The wall can't wait.

He stands a little straighter. "Will you… teach me?" He holds out the chalk to me.

"I…" I shake my head. "No, Brendan, I'm working."

His shoulders sag.

"My work is very important," I say. "We have to finish the wall, to—"

"…keep the bad men away, I know," he says. "I understand."

He shuffles away and sits, bending over his slate again.

I read through my plans again. A few minutes pass and I realize I've been staring at the same spot.

Ceather would have taught him to draw.

At last, I push my papers away. "Come here, Brendan." He looks up, eyes quizzical. "I'll teach you."

"You will?" He's on his feet in a flash. "Thank you, Uncle!"

He scrambles into my lap, slate in hand. I eye my plans one last time, but… after all, if I give him the slate with no teaching, what good is it, truly? This way, he really will be practicing for the future… Someday the wall will be built, and there will be time for other things. Hopefully that day will come before he is grown. _It would come faster if you didn't stop working today,_ I think, but I brush the thought away. This won't take long.

"What do you want to draw?" I ask.

Brendan's brows come together as he thinks. "How about… a cat?"

I smile at that. There are a few cats in Kells, and Brendan is quite enamored with them. "All right. Let's draw a cat." I take his tiny hand in mine and wrap it around the chalk. I guide his hand across the slate, forming a simple cat.

Before I know it, the slate is full… with cats, with little Brendans, with a hulking blob he insisted on shaping himself that he says is me.

Brendan leans back against my chest as he sketches the next thing… whatever it is. "Uncle," he says. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to be bad."

I feel like a monster. "I know, Brendan." I pat his arm, a little awkwardly. "You may make mistakes sometimes, but you're never bad."

"It's just, the brothers told me I could."

"I understand why that was confusing," I say. "But I told you not to. You need to do what I say, because I am your Uncle, and I know what's best for you."

Brendan nods. "And, you're the _Abbot_."

I chuckle a little at that. "Yes, I'm the Abbot."

"I won't use the quills again," Brendan says earnestly. "Or the parchment. Not unless you tell me I can, promise."

"Thank you." I ruffle his hair, something my father always used to do, then catch myself, shocked.

What time is it? How long have we been at this? I glance at the window and it's much later in the day than I expected. I lift Brendan down to the floor. "Well, I think that's enough for now. I need to get back to work."

Brendan nods. He sits besides me on the floor, scratching at his slate.

Soon a little hand wraps around my ankle. "Uncle?"

I sigh. "Yes, Brendan?"

"Do you think we can do this again, sometime?"

"…Maybe. We'll see."

 _Author's Note: Inspired by Brendan's reaction when Aidan first gives him the quill: "I'm... I'm not allowed..." And by the fact that Brendan's pretty good at chalk drawings by the time Aidan arrives._ Someone _gave him that slate._ Someone _must have taught him something about drawing. :)_

 _Apparently it's going to take me a while to actually get to the events that happened in the movie._


	5. Nightmare

Chapter Five: Nightmare

 _7 Years After the Attack_

 _Kells is burning._

 _On every side, huts are aflame. The people of Kells flee as great dark shadows pursue them._

 _A woman seizes my sleeve. "Help us, Abbot!" Even as she speaks, she melts away into ash._

 _Someone grabs my ankle. I look down to see a fallen man, his face torn and bleeding. "You said you would protect us!"_

 _And then, somewhere in the distance, I hear Brendan's voice. "UNCLE!"_

 _"Brendan!" I run towards the sound. Where is he?_

 _"Uncle!" he calls again, and then his voice dissolves into a thick cough._

 _Of course… he's inside Ceather's hut. I burst in to find him curled on the ground, coughing weakly. I snatch him up in my arms and run for the wall. The wall will keep us safe._

 _But Northmen surround us, running towards us with swords raised. I weave between them, clutching my nephew close, when suddenly he gives a piercing cry._

 _I look down to see a sword protruding through his little chest._

 _"No!" I cradle him against me, pressing my sleeve hard against the wound. But red stains spread across his robes. He meets my eyes, reaches one hand towards my face… and goes still, his head rolling back over my arm._

 _"No! Brendan… Brendan!"_

"BRENDAN!" I jerk awake with a gasp. Immediately I turn to Brendan's bed—but there's nothing there, no bed, no boy. "Brendan!" I'm on my feet and across the room before I wake up enough to remember… he sleeps at the base of the tower now. It's been years since he slept in my room, where I could keep an eye on him.

I sit back on the bed, resting my face in my hands. I am no stranger to nightmares. Since I lost Ceather, my dreams have been haunted by Northmen and flames. But lately… the dreams are getting worse. That dream was so vivid… I can still feel the weight of his little body in my arms.

 _It was only a dream_ , I tell myself. But I find myself getting up again, lighting a candle. I know I'm being ridiculous, but I need to see him for himself and know that he is all right.

It's a long trek down to his room. The images of the dream replay through my mind. I can never let that fate come upon Kells. More and more refugees trickle into the village everyday. They come seeking the protection of our walls. They come believing that we can save them. That _I_ can save them.

But the walls are not finished. They are taking far too long, and the Northmen could appear any day. If they came tomorrow, all of those people… the brothers… Brendan… would perish.

I feel the weight of that every hour, every moment. They all are depending on me to protect them. I've redoubled my efforts, tripled them, on the walls. But it's never enough.

Yet, I cannot fail them. The walls are the only, best hope any of us have.

Why can't the brothers see that? The moment I turn my back, they return to the scriptorium. They think their time is better spent in illumination, in creating books to spread hope to the people.

Books! Their books will burn with us if the Northmen come before we are ready. There will be time enough for the books when the wall is done and we are safe. If they had seen the Northmen as I have, there would be no question what we must do—we must build the wall, and we must finish it soon. I cannot do it without their aid.

I've reached Brendan's door. I hold my breath as I lift it open, trying to be silent. But of course it creaks.

Below me, Brendan stretches and stirs. He squints, looking up at me.

"It's only me, Brendan," I say quickly. I must be a terrifying sight, a dark shape looming over him, candlelight twisting my features. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Uncle?" he yawns, rubbing at his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." I shouldn't have come here to disturb him. "I…just wanted to check on you."

He props himself up on his elbows, trying to study my face. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asks.

"What?" How? But no, he's just remembering the times he's awoken me in the night.

"If you're scared, you can come sleep down here with me."

My lips twitch upward, just a bit. "That's very nice of you. But no, I am not scared. Go back to sleep—we have a busy day tomorrow." I start to close the door.

"I know you have bad dreams, Uncle," Brendan says. "I've heard you before. Sometimes you call out when you're sleeping."

He's never mentioned this before. My worst nightmares roll through my head—what did the poor boy overhear? I'm supposed to be strong for him.

"It's all right. I have bad dreams too, sometimes," Brendan says. "The Northmen are scary, but the wall will keep us safe, remember?"

Only if we finish it. Only if I can work hard enough and fast enough, faster than the Northmen can find us. "You're right, Brendan. The wall will keep us safe."

He yawns again. I should go and let him sleep.

Instead, I climb down the ladder. I set the candle on his bedside table and perch on the edge of his bed. I want to take him into my arms, to reassure myself that he is alive and breathing and well. But I've never been good at this sort of thing. I reach out and touch his shoulder.

Brendan blinks at me with sleepy confused eyes.

I take my hand away.

"Lay back down," I say. "I'll stay here until you're sleeping."

He tilts his head, probably wondering if he should remind me that I'm the one too frightened to sleep, not him. But he lays back, and his eyes close.

I brush the hair back from his forehead. "I will never let anything happen to you," I whisper.

He's breathing deeply, already asleep.

I stay with him the rest of the night, keeping watch while he dreams.


	6. Understanding

Chapter Six: Understanding

 _9 Years After the Attack_

I am a large man, not one you would expect to possess the gift of stealth.

Yet I have lost track of the times I have come upon a brother or two, only for them to gasp in shock once they realize I am there. I don't quite understand how this happens—you would think I would be hard to miss—but it's a gift for which I am grateful, because it has allowed me to hear many interesting things.

Of late, mostly things I would almost rather not overhear.

"Why does he even have artists here? All he cares for are the walls."

"Does he even remember how to read a book?"

"…of course we must not let the Abbot know that we… Abbot!"

But there is one person I don't mind overhearing. Often when I catch Brendan off-guard, he is saying the same thing. "The Abbot says…"

"The Abbot says we shouldn't be afraid of imaginary things."

"The Abbot says the wall can save us from the Northmen."

"The Abbot says we can make books after the wall is done."

"The Abbot says the outside is dangerous!"

When I'm talking to Brendan, it often seems as though the words aren't sinking in. He gets distracted by the smallest things. A passing cloud, a drifting butterfly, any cat that comes within the walls of Kells… I try to instruct him in architecture and the structure of the wall, but no sooner do I start speaking than his eyes will glaze over, and soon he'll ask some unrelated question. "Uncle, have you ever heard of a lion? It's a kind of giant cat…"

But despite all of that, something must be seeping in. He holds my words up to the other brothers as the ultimate authority on life. I take much comfort from that… and all right, a bit of pride, too. Ceather said once I would be one of his heroes. The way he holds to my words, I want to believe that I am.

Of course… I must admit that when he is speaking to me, it's not uncommon for him to talk about what the Brothers have said. I fear I may have let him spend too many years sheltered in the scriptorium. It was safer for him there as a small child. But more often than not, now that I bring him to the wall with me, he slips back to the scriptorium and the tasks at hand there. I know the brothers disagree with my plans to build the wall. They don't make much effort to hide it. But must they speak badly of the wall to my nephew? They try to fill his head with talk of books and illumination.

I try to keep him close to me as I work on the wall, but with mixed results. Yet again I send Brendan off to fetch a new set of plans, and yet again he fails to reappear. It's not hard to guess where he's gone. As I near the scriptorium, I can see the door has been left ajar. Inside I can hear Brother Assoua's booming voice. "All the Abbot cares about are these walls! He's forgotten to care about everything that truly matters in life."

My hands curl into fists. I want to burst into the room and remind him just what I care about: the people of Kells. The brothers here. My nephew. The wall is for all of them. It's to protect us from the darkness infecting our land. But I know perfectly well if I give in to that impulse, it will seem as though I'm proving him right. The brothers will not listen to me. All they will hear is wall, wall, wall.

Then I hear Brendan's voice pipe up. "Uncle just wants to protect us from what's outside! There are Northmen coming, and there are wolves in the forest. It's very dangerous! That's why we need the wall—so Kells can be safe. That's what's most important."

I'm touched by the fervor in his voice.

The brothers don't understand me. To them, I'm a mad man, wasting their time and talents on stone masonry when all they want to do is illuminate.

But my nephew knows me, and he _does_ understand. He realizes everything I do is only for the good of Kells. I'm not a mad man to him.

"But, Brendan," Brother Leonardo's voice, "you haven't—"

I push through the doors. All the brothers straighten with a gasp. Brother Leonardo actually takes a step back. His elbow tips over an ink bottle which spills over Brother Sergei's work.

Brendan is in the center of the room, hands on his hips. He looks up at me with concern. I can see he is remembering what I asked him to do.

Well, we can let that go for now. I stand beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Out of the mouths of babes. You must take the wall more seriously. In the end, it will be the only thing that saves us. Your books would only fuel the Northmen's fires."

They want to challenge that—it's written all over their faces. Only Tang steps forward, though, hands spread in a placating gesture. "But Abbot, without books—"

"If the Northmen come before we are ready, there will be no books left anyway," I say. I nudge Brendan forward. "Come, Brendan. There is work to be done in the tower."

We leave the scriptorium. I catch the apologetic look Brendan gives to the brothers as we go. Why is he doing that? He should be apologizing to me for forgetting the plans.

No, no, now is not the time for scolding. Once we've left the scriptorium behind, I speak again. "Thank you, Brendan."

He looks up at me cautiously, squinting a bit. "Why, Uncle?"

"Thank you for explaining to the brothers about the wall," I say. "I am grateful you understand." He smiles a little, still looking nervous. I probably still look furious. I take a deep breath and try to smile back. "I'm… I'm proud of you, Brendan. I hope someday the brothers will come to understand as you do."

Brendan beams now. He straightens up and walks a little taller. "I do understand, Uncle. I want to keep Kells safe too."

"Then let's get back to work, shall we?"

Brendan's focus lasts a little longer today. I hope this is a trend that continues.


	7. Aidan Arrives

**Chapter Seven: Aidan Arrives**

 _Ten years after the attack_

Where is Brendan? It seems hours since I sent him to fetch me more plans for the wall.

I sigh. We've had several talks about this—he knows how vital our work is, he knows that I am counting on him. But again and again, he doesn't come through.

I go to my window to see if I can spot him. And there is my nephew, gallivanting about Kells in mad pursuit of… a goose? He's not alone. I spot four of the brothers with him—Assoua, Tang, Square, Leonardo. Every single one is supposed to be working on the wall today. But why work to protect Kells when you can go on a wild goose chase?

I should go down and remind Brendan what I asked him to do. But he's running about like a mad man. If I want to talk to him, I'll have to run him down, and as much as the people of Kells would enjoy watching their Abbot dash about like a school boy… I'll wait until Brendan has finished.

At the rate things are going… this is going to take a while. I heave a sigh and lean against the window frame. If he ran like that when he fetched plans, we'd have the wall done in half the time.

Then Leonardo catches up to Brendan, waving him back. I straighten back up. It would be an unspeakable miracle, but could it be Leonardo is encouraging the boy to return to his duties? Leonardo surges on ahead, but Brendan only stands there watching him. Things do not go well for Leonardo. It's difficult to tell from this angle, but from here it seems he dives head first into a pig pen.

And then Brendan takes off, continuing the chase. I sigh again, smacking one fist on the tower wall. It's just one goose… Should it be this difficult? I should get back to my work and accomplish what I can without the plans I asked for, but I find myself watching Brendan instead. Come on Brendan! That way, that way! It's only a goose… Just go a little faster!

What am I doing, gawking like this? This isn't a game of hurling. I'm becoming like the boy, too easily distracted. Well… but once Brendan catches the goose, I'll be able to talk to him. That's all—I want this to be over with quickly.

Then the goose flies up into some of the scaffolding surrounding the wall. That scaffolding is not steady… It's not designed to be the scene of a chase. I tense as Brendan begins to climb. Why aren't the brothers stopping him? The goose continues its mad dash. A villager tries to avoid it and falls off the scaffolding. I wince. Fortunately he's near the bottom, but still, a fall like that could—

I haven't finished the thought before the scaffolding snaps beneath Brendan and he falls out of sight.

Everything freezes. A fall like that could be fatal, if he landed wrong. I realize I'm clenching the window sill with both hands, leaning forward to see whatever I can. The brothers run closer to the scaffolding. I think I can make out their cries. But they don't make any move to go in to get Brendan. Is he somewhere they can't reach? I watch them closely, trying to gauge their body language. They aren't running for help or trying to get to him. Could it be that the boy is all right? But then they could just be in shock… I need to get down there.

Then Brendan emerges, whole and well. In a moment he's running after the goose again, the brothers behind him. He seems to be all right. I let out a deep breath. I'll have to talk to him about not running on the scaffolding… and to the brothers about pulling him into this when he had more important duties. What if he had died, all for a few goose feathers? Are the books so precious that they're worth risking an innocent child? I do all I can to protect the boy, but he always seems to find new ways to endanger himself.

Finally Brendan makes a flying leap and pins the goose to the ground. I head for the stairs.

I try to stay calm. Brendan should not have been distracted, but the brothers are more at fault than the child. Perhaps a reminder will be enough to get him back on task. I've lost my temper with him more than I should lately. After all, he is only a boy, even if he is on the brink of adulthood.

I leave my tower and find Brendan surrounded by the brothers, stroking a feather he's just plucked from the goose. When the men catch sight of me, they gasp and back away. Their eyes are full of guilt. They know what they should be doing right now.

"Abbot," Brother Leonardo says, "I explain for you." He babbles some story about chasing the goose. His robes are dripping with mud—clearly he did jump into the pig pen—and as he gestures during his storytelling, mud splashes across my shoulder. Brother Leonardo sees that I am not pleased. "Forgive us, Abbot," he says, and all four brothers clasp their hands together and bow in contrition.

"Brendan," I say, "where are those plans I asked for?"

"The plans?" His eyes get big as he remembers what I asked him to do. "Oh! …I left them in the scriptorium."

At least he didn't carry them about with him, or they might have ended up in the same state as Brother Leonardo. "Bring them to the tower." I hold out my hand, and Brendan hands over the goose quill.

"Yes, Uncle."

I survey the brothers before me. "Tomorrow, you will go back to work on the wall. Dawn till evening bell." How many times must I explain to them? Time is short. The Northmen could be upon us any day, and we must be ready! "And, Brother Leonardo."

"Hmm?" he says.

"Clean yourself up, for pity's sake." It is not dignified for a monk to be coated in mud like a beast of the field. I head back to my tower, brushing the filth off my shoulder.

It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't have to watch these men's every move, Brendan's every move, to keep them on task. Why can't they understand—our lives depend on this wall! The lives of all of Kells depend on this wall. Every sacrifice must be made so it can be completed. Otherwise… Ceather's pale face flashes before me and I shudder. In my mind's eye, her face shifts… and becomes Brendan, still and lifeless.

No. I will never let that happen to Brendan. Or to anyone in Kells.

But there is so much to be done. I scan the walls around me. They have come a long way, but gazing at them, all I can see are the weaknesses—the gaps where the walls must be raised, the places where additional supports are needed. I spot some villagers struggling to lift more stone to the top. Brendan will likely be a while. I suppose I can help for a few minutes.

Of course I manage to lose myself in the work and soon much more time has passed than I intended. I rush back to the tower where I'm sure Brendan is waiting. I can't give him a lecture on being late with his responsibilities when I'm late to meet him.

But my workroom is empty. Did Brendan drop off the plans and go back to the scriptorium? I search the blue prints on my desk but I can't find what I need. I sigh. Likely, Brendan never made it here. For the second time today, he's forgotten his task. What distracted him this time? Why can't I impress upon him how important it is that we move quickly? I go to my window to look for him.

There he is—racing from the scriptorium in a dead run. At least I won't have to wait much longer. I trail my gaze over the wall again, trying to determine the most crucial place to work on next.

I hear Brendan's footsteps pounding up the stairway. I don't turn as he arrives, breathless.

"Here they are, Uncle," he pants.

This time I speak to him more firmly. "Brendan, how am I to trust you with responsibility when you continue to disappoint me? One day, you will take control of this abbey. Yet it takes you hours to fulfill a simple task."

Someday, it will be up to him to protect the people from the Northmen. When that day comes, he cannot afford to be distracted.

"I'm sorry." Brendan's voice is subdued, a bit hurt. I give him a sharp look—the boy seems sincerely apologetic. "The monks were talking of Iona. I dreamt it was destroyed. It was so real, Uncle!" His face twists with fear.

I wonder sometimes if he still remembers the terrible massacre he witnessed as an infant. Could those images still be inside his mind, buried under the rest of his childhood? When he dreams of the Northmen, is he glimpsing his past?

"It is real, Brendan." I try to make my voice gentler as I gesture for him to join me at the window. Brendan comes forward to look out over Kells. "One day that horror will come to us. That is exactly why we must prepare ourselves."

Brendan doesn't speak, but stands there, his eyes locked on something I cannot see. Maybe he does remember more than I realize. I carefully pull the plans from his grip, and spread them across my desk. All right, I see what needs to be done next. I pick up a piece of chalk and begin sketching on the wall. Brendan still stares off, lost in thought. Maybe my message is sinking in. But it's time for him to come back to work.

I explain my drawings as I work, but Brendan doesn't seem to be reacting at all. "This section of the wall is supported by three pillars. Here, here, and here."

"Uncle!" Brendan says. "Someone has arrived!"

I keep drawing. New arrivals to Kells are a very common occurrence.

"He has a white cat!"

"Another victim of the Northmen, no doubt," I say. More and more refugees have found their way here. More reason to finish the wall as soon as we can. The attacks are moving closer. "Now, let's see…" I glance back at my nephew… but he is gone. Off to meet the mysterious stranger with the cat.

I heave a long sigh. I should have known when I heard "cat." Why can't he stay focused? Today has been nothing but a losing battle.

I go to the window. The stranger has been surrounded by all of the brothers. I squint, straining to catch a glimpse of him. Finally the brothers move aside, and I see… wait. Could it really be?

Brother Aidan of Iona? One of the best illuminators of our time, if not the best. His skill as an illuminator is such that he has become a sort of legend. I knew him long ago when we were brothers together in Clonmacnoise. I haven't seen him since… oh, long before I lost Ceather. But… why would he come to Kells? For years, he's lived in Iona, an abbey known for exceptional illumination work, and he has been working on the Book of Iona—a book said to be begun by Colmcille himself. If Aidan is anything like he used to be, working on that Book is his life's dream and purpose—I can't imagine him choosing to leave that behind. And I can't imagine the Book leaving Iona, not unless something truly dire had happened.

Brendan's words echo through my head. "The monks were talking of Iona. I dreamt it was destroyed. It was so real, Uncle!" Perhaps it was far more real than either of us imagined.

I find my way down to the others. The monks are laughing with Brother Aidan, enjoying some joke he's told. I see Brendan towards the front of the crowd, and I push through to stand behind him.

"Welcome to Kells, Brother," I say, spreading my hands in welcome.

"Hmm?" Brother Aidan turns to face me. His hair is white now, almost as white as the cat in his arms, and his face is crossed with wrinkles. But it's him.

My appearance has certainly changed since our last meeting as well, but he recognizes me. "Abbot Cellach." He reaches for my hand.

"Peace be with you," I say. "Brothers! Welcome to Kells one of the great illuminators of our times. Brother Aidan of Iona."

Gasps echo through the crowd. They all move in closer, eager to ask questions, talking over one another. I can't remember ever seeing them so excited.

"Brothers, brothers, brothers," Aidan says, a smile on his face. "One question at a time. As Colmcille used to say, 'Questions do not burn your tongue if you wait to ask them.'" Everyone laughs with him, as if he is exceptionally witty. Aidan is greatly enjoying the attention, I see.

"Welcome to Kells, Brother Aidan!" Brendan says enthusiastically. He's beaming as though he's just met a hero from an ancient tale. I find myself frowning a bit.

The brothers swarm around Brother Aidan, babbling their joy at his arrival. They escort him to the scriptorium to see our work, fawning over his every word and pressing in, each hoping for a chance to speak to him. I follow, a few steps back behind the others. I want to speak with him in private as soon as the brothers have calmed down. I need to know why he has come. For now, though, I'll let him have his moment.

It's a bit surreal watching the others battle for his attention. I remember meeting Aidan when I was a boy. I knew then that he was gifted, but I had no idea what he would grow to become. I feel as though I'm witnessing Aidan's dreams come true—he has become a famed illuminator, more so than he ever sought. My life, on the other hand, has gone much differently than my childhood dreams.

I am secretly gratified to notice that Brendan does not stay in the crowd. He is more interested in hanging back to speak to Aidan's white cat.

Inside the scriptorium, the brothers are eager to give a grand tour. Aidan nods his approval. "Oh! Fine size of a place, isn't it? Mmm. Good clean air, fine light coming from those windows." I try not to think of the time that is wasted as we gather here. So little has been done today on the wall. But Aidan must have traveled a long way, and he deserves a proper welcome.

Brendan comes in, pushing through the brothers to get closer to Brother Aidan. "Brother," he says.

Aidan does not hear. He is consumed with examining his surroundings. "Very good, indeed, yes."

"Is that where you keep the Book?" Brendan asks, much more loudly.

Aidan turns, startled. "Hmm?"

The other brothers take a step away from Brendan. It's the question we've all been wanting to ask, but no one wanted to be impertinent.

Wait. Who told Brendan about the Book? How much did the brothers say to him about Iona?

"Uh…" Brendan is flustered by everyone's reaction. "Is… that… where you keep the…?" He trails off, embarrassed.

Aidan leans down, closer to Brendan's eye level. He smiles, trying to put the child at ease. I remember him doing the same for me, long ago. "And who might you be?" He holds his hand out over Brendan's head. "A very short brother, I see."

The monks chuckle at the joke. I scowl. I can see Brendan's humiliation at being laughed at.

"The person who is short of stature is never as short of questions," Aidan says. "And of what interest is the book to you?"

"Well, the brothers were talking…" Brendan gestures around him, and some of his confidence comes back. "…and they said that Saint Colmcille himself began it."

Enough. It sounds as though the brothers have already filled Brendan's head with talk of the Book. No need for Aidan to distract him further—he's already had far too many distractions today. And I need to understand why Brother Aidan is here. "Brothers, now that you've greeted Brother Aidan, I must take him to see the important work we're doing to fortify Kells." If he thinks Kells is an illumination workshop like Iona, he needs to be quickly corrected before he leads the others astray. "You all have work to do."

The monks trickle out of the scriptorium, grumbling. I put an arm around Brother Aidan, guiding him towards the tower. "The plans are in my work room."

"Ah," Aidan says, "but I was thinking, I could stay here…"

"Right this way, Brother." I move him forward, away from Brendan. If I'm right, and Brother Aidan bears bad news of Iona, I don't want Brendan to hear. Just a few minutes ago, he was terrified at the thought of Vikings attacking Iona. He doesn't need to hear the details.

I'll wait until my workroom to discuss what I truly want to discuss. For now, I begin to explain my work to Brother Aidan. "You see, I am determined to complete the fortifications within two years. Attacks from the Northmen have been increasing. It's only a matter of time before they find their way to Kells, and when they do, I want us to be unpierceable. All of the monks here assist with building the wall, and most of the villagers as well. Since that is our main focus, we have less time for other pursuits… such as illumination. I'm sure you can understand."

We climb the tower steps.

Aidan's smile finally slips from his face. "I'm afraid I do understand a fear of the Northmen." He takes a deep breath. "Br—Abbot Cellach… The boy was right. I do carry the book with me." He pats the bag.

"But…" I say, "why did you take it from Iona?"

Brother Aidan is silent until we enter my workroom.

"Iona is gone," Aidan says. He wraps his arms around himself, his eyes gazing into space. "I was the only one to escape. Myself, my cat… and the Book."

I close my eyes. I knew it. "I mourn for all those who were lost."

"As do I," Aidan says softly. "Thank you."

We pray together for the souls of all those killed. Then I ask, "How did you escape?"

Aidan shakes his head. "Only by the skin of my teeth. They pursued us to the beach. I just managed to flee by boat…"

And clearly the Northmen had a ship in order to reach Iona. I picture it in my mind—Aidan fleeing in his boat, the Northmen crossing the water close behind. It's my worst fear come true. He's lead the Northmen right to us. "You should not have come here. The Northmen will have followed you."

"Was I to stay and be killed?" Aidan asks. "I escaped the Vikings and left them far behind, Brother Cellach."

I glare at him. I am no longer the boy he knew in Clonmacnoise. I am Abbot here.

"Sorry, I mean… Abbot Cellach." He shuts his eyes, shrugging. "The book is saved and I mean to complete it."

"Yes." I turn my back to him, striding to the window. "Well, we have more pressing things to complete here." Iona's fate highlights the urgency of finishing the wall.

"You mean your wall?" His tone is skeptical.

I shoot him a dark look over my shoulder. "Not my wall, Aidan. A wall to save civilization!" I slam both hands again the window frame. "A wall to save your book!" I sigh. He has just escaped a Northmen attack. He lost all of his brothers in Iona, all of the books stored there. How can he not understand the importance of the wall? I gaze out through the window at all the huts nestled inside the safety of Kells. "Pagans, Crom worshippers… It is with the strength of our walls that they will come to trust the strength of our faith."

I glance back. Aidan runs a hand across the floor, tracing the plans I've laid for the wall. "You were always good at the old drawing, Cellach."

"Yes." But there are far more important things in life than drawing. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to attend to."

I go to my desk, digging through the plans scattered across it. I can hear Aidan move towards the door, but he stops.

"No wall can stop the Northmen, Abbot. When they come, all we can do is run and hope that we are fast enough."

I scoff, sorting through my blueprints. Run? Hope we are fast enough? Does he not see how many are sheltered here in Kells? Does he not realize how many are old or feeble? Does he not see the tiny children and the babes in arms? Fleeing is not an option. We would be hunted down and destroyed. Fighting is not an option. We have no warriors among us.

The wall is our best, only choice.

Aidan sighs as he leaves.


	8. Curiosity

**Chapter 8: Curiosity**

I flip through the blueprints, but I can't seem to find what I need. I go through the pile once, twice, three times before I give up and shove them all away, sighing heavily. I'm not really focusing on the plans—I could have gone right past the ones I need without noticing.

How could Aidan go through a Northmen attack and not understand why Kells needs a wall? Did the Northmen follow him, as I fear?

I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to pull myself together. I need to get working again. Today there has been too many delays, and almost nothing has been done. I wonder where Brendan has gotten off to now. This time, it's my fault. I left him behind in the scriptorium. I consider going down to fetch him again, but… if I do that, I'll run into Aidan again. I'm sure he went straight back to the scriptorium to secure his precious Book.

Brendan is probably at Aidan's heels right now. I remember the way his face lit up when he realized who Aidan was. The way all the monks gathered around him, hailing him as an answered prayer.

"Uncle?"

Brendan catches me so off-guard I almost jump. "Brendan!" He's come up behind me, head tilted down a bit.

"I…I'm sorry about before, Uncle." His head droops farther. "I know I need to do better."

I'm grateful that he's come back, this time before I even sent for him. "Perhaps that is the first step towards improvement." I dig around my desk until I find my chalk again. We can pick up where we left off.

But I hesitate. Should I tell him what happened in Iona? He needs to know, so he better understands the urgency of our work here. And he will doubtless hear the news sooner or later. But I find myself somewhat reluctant to tell him. He dreamed of Iona being destroyed, and it truly was. He is still a boy. Hearing that a nightmare came true could deeply unsettle him.

"Uncle…" Brendan asks. "How do you know Brother Aidan?"

"Hmm?"

"You recognized each other," Brendan says. "When did you meet him?"

"Long ago." So very long ago, when my life looked very different. "I met him when I was a boy at Clonmacnoise, my first abbey. He came there to study illumination for a time."

"The Brothers told me of his work," Brendan says, his eyes brightening. "They say his writings glow from the pages as if they are light. Is it true he is the Perfect Illuminator?"

So, this is what they've been filling his head with lately. Soon he'll believe Aidan can walk on water. "No one is a perfect illuminator, Brendan. He's just a man, like the rest of us."

Brendan's shoulders sag.

"It's been long since I've seen his work," I add begrudgingly, "But he was very skilled then."

"The Brothers told me of his Book," Brendan says. "The Book of Iona. They say that Colmcille himself—"

"I know of the Book." Just what Brendan needs, another distraction. He looks up at me with wide eyes, waiting to hear more. "Brendan… do you know why Brother Aidan is here?"

He bites his lip, but doesn't answer.

I take a deep breath. "Iona has been destroyed by the Northmen."

Brendan nods slowly. "It's like I dreamed."

"That's a coincidence," I tell him. "Don't let that frighten you. You knew Iona was a vulnerable place—you understood the danger they were in, better than they did, perhaps. Your mind filled in the possibility—and it just so happened that Iona had already fallen. Your dream was still just a dream. Dreams are not real."

As I tell myself when I dream of Kells burning.

Brendan's eyes glaze over as he loses himself in his thoughts. "If Iona is gone, that makes the Book even more important…"

"Brother Aidan is very fortunate that he saved the Book when he left Iona," I say. "Most of the books…" But I find that I don't want to speak of burning books to Brendan. It's an easy leap from thinking about the books burning to thinking of the people who must have burned… To Ceather and Bronach, fading into ash.

"Burned?" Brendan finishes softly. "But Uncle, that's why this Book is more important than ever."

What exactly did the Brothers tell him about the Book? "Aidan has come here to Kells seeking shelter," I say. "He's brought the Book here for shelter as well. But we can't protect Aidan OR the Book unless we finish the wall."

Something inside me twists as I speak. Is Aidan really so different from the other refugees who come here, seeking the safety of Kells' walls? Yet I was not welcoming to him. I would never have spoken to any other refugee that way… I don't accost them and question whether the Northmen followed them.

I owe him an apology. Tonight, when the work is done, I need to be sure he is settled in and treated as an honored guest. He does not yet understand the wall-but then, he has only just arrived. Perhaps that will change. Right now, so soon after what he went through, of course the Northmen seem unstoppable.

"I understand, Uncle," Brendan says.

"Good." I snatch up my chalk and scan the walls, finding the place I was working earlier. "All right, now pay attention. This section of the wall is supported by three pillars…"

Brendan stays with me the rest of the day, fetching the plans I need, accompanying me to the wall to supervise the work there. As I help lift stone, he scurries across the scaffold to deliver blueprints to the other brothers. He seems to be on task, but his eyes are unfocused, dreamy.

It's late in the day as we head back to the workroom to secure the plans for the night. Brendan fidgets beside me, his eyes locked on something far in the distance.

"Uncle?" His voice is faint. It's almost as if he doesn't want me to hear.

"Yes, Brendan?"

He won't look up at me. His eyes are wide, his brows furrowed. He almost looks… afraid? Is he thinking of Iona?

"Do you… do you remember when I was small, and… I wanted to illuminate?"

I stop walking. I can't hold back a sigh. "Yes. I remember." I suppose I should have expected this.

He stops too. He still isn't looking at me. "You said I was too small then… but maybe, when I was older…" He tilts his head up, hope in his eyes despite himself.

I massage my temple. "Brendan. You know there isn't time for that right now."

"I would still work on the wall," Brendan says. "It's just… I am older, and maybe—"

"This is not a time for books, Brendan," I say. "Not even a time for the Book of Iona. What happened to Iona is a warning. We need to marshal all our efforts to keep that from happening to Kells."

He gives me a longing look, but he doesn't argue. "All right, Uncle. I just… I just wondered."

As the Brothers trickle into the Refectory for dinner, I pull Aidan to the side. He's watching me with caution. Neither of us has recovered from our discussion before. "Brother Aidan," I say, "I would like you to join me at the top table tonight, as an honored guest."

He inclines his head, a smile sliding easily across his face. "Thank you, Abbot. I would indeed be honored."

As dinner begins, I see all of the Brothers casting looks our way, staring at their Perfect Illuminator. Brendan is no different. His eyes are glowing so brightly with excitement that they outshine the candelight. He seems to be asking the Brothers many questions. I have no doubt they are filling his head with more talk of the Book and Aidan's expert skill.

Aidan digs very eagerly into our simple dinner of lentil soup and coarse brown bread. I wonder how long he has gone without a decent meal.

"Tell me about the boy, Brendan," Aidan says. Brendan is watching him even now—but as Aidan smiles and meets his gaze, Brendan averts his eyes. "He's your sister's child, isn't he? He has a real look of her."

"Yes," I say. "He's Ceather's son." I have to clear my throat before I go on. "She was lost in a Northmen raid when he was only a babe. Their entire village perished."

"I'd heard that the village was destroyed," Aidan says softly. "I'm so sorry for your loss. She was an uncommonly kind woman."

"She was." I see some of that in Brendan sometimes.

"How did Brendan survive?"

That is a story I do not like to tell. I shake my head, searching for the right words—words that will satisfy his curiosity without bringing more questions.

Tang speaks up from his seat at the nearest table. "The Abbot is far too modest in telling that tale. He saved the boy himself—he went into the village and fought off the Northmen to bring Brendan to safety."

The brothers nearest us turn to listen. Fortunately most, including Brendan, are too far away and too busy speaking to overhear. Tang is one of the very few who has ever heard my tale-and he heard it long ago from Liam, not from me.

Aidan's eyebrows shoot up. "You fought off the Northmen?"

"Only three," I mutter. Aidan's eyebrows go higher. "I was too late… By the time I reached the village, Brendan was the only one left alive. I believe his parents saved him—they both died fighting. All I did was take him home."

"So…" Aidan says. "You've seen a Northmen raid."

"I saw the end of it," I say. I don't want to say anything else. Aidan has his own demons dancing behind his eyes—he doesn't want to speak of what happened in Iona, either. We turn back to our food.

Aidan, as always, tries to lighten the mood that has settled over us. "Seeing the lad reminds me of you when you were a boy." He chuckles lightly. "Does your nephew have that same mischievous streak?"

I'm caught off guard, and I can't hold back a snort. "A mischievous streak? I'll have you know, I was a very obedient child."

"Often you were," Aidan says, "As long as you respected the person telling you what to do." He lowers his voice to be sure the other brothers can't overhear. "But if you didn't… you were quite gifted at pranks, as I recall."

I laugh a bit at that. His words bring back memories that I haven't thought about in a long, long time. "Well… only if a particular person deserved it."

Aidan smirks. "Yes… I suppose Brother Gallagher deserved a bit of… chastisement." He laughs too. "When I first went into his room, I thought it had been attacked by a giant spider. It must have taken you hours to string up his room." His laughter deepens. "And then you booby trapped his bed, besides!"

"I don't believe they ever caught whoever was responsible for that." I smooth my face into a blank slate, but it only lasts for a moment before I'm laughing again. I still remember Gallagher's angry rant… but he never did pin the incident on me. Actually, I was almost never caught in my pranking. Probably because for the most part, I was an obedient, serious child-not one that my elders would suspect.

"Maybe some people didn't." Aidan smiles, shaking his head. His eyes go back to Brendan. "So no little incidents like that here?"

"No," I say. I look over at my nephew as well. "Brendan wouldn't…" But I'm laughing again, harder this time. The image of Brendan tormenting the Brothers with some of my old pranks… It wouldn't be like him at all. The incongruence to the image amuses me. Then again, I was rarely caught by my own Abbot. "Well, if he does, no one's told me anything about it!" Maybe he's truly a prank master and I have no idea.

Brendan has caught us watching him. His face is flushing, the tips of his ears turning red. I flash him a grin, trying to show him that it's all right. Brendan's gaze flicks from me to Brother Aidan, and then he smiles back. He sneaks another look at Brother Aidan before he ducks his head again.

I realize suddenly that all the Brothers are staring at me, astounded. Brother Leonardo's mouth is actually hanging open. What's so shocking? Did they overhear our story? They couldn't have—we spoke softly.

Then I realize they're surprised to hear me laughing, to see me smiling. Well, after all, I am human. I do laugh sometimes. I try to remember the last time I had a real, good laugh, but nothing immediately comes to mind.

"He seems a good lad," Aidan says.

"Yes," I say. "He has his faults, as do we all, but he is a good lad."

Aidan tips his head, looking thoughtful. "Has he ever tried his hand at drawing?"

I stiffen. "As I told you, we don't have much time for such activities here."

"I see. I simply wondered whether the boy took after his uncle in his artistic skills."

Flattery will not work on me. I choose not to answer.

Aidan has finished his food. I catch him stifling a yawn.

"You must be exhausted, Brother," I say. "We've prepared a cell for you. I'll have someone escort you…"

But Aidan is shaking his head. "Actually, I'd like to get the Book settled in the scriptorium. I may spend some time there this evening."

"Of course. As you wish." The Book is the only thing that survived the attack on Iona. It makes sense that he wants to secure it in the scriptorium. Still, I feel uneasy. This is not Iona. We don't have time for illustration here.

 _Author Notes:_ _Just exploring a bit what Brendan did with the rest of his day, in between his eavesdropping session and sneaking into the scriptorium that night. He'd already gotten in trouble so many times that day for getting distracted... he really just needed to go back to work! And I'm sure he was very curious to learn more about Aidan, especially after realizing that Cellach already knew Aidan._

 _I finally got my hands on the Secret of Kells chapter book (yay! Thanks for the recommendation, Shinobi illuminator!). On Aidan's first night, Cellach honors him by having him sit at the top table during dinner. The book says, "For once, Abbot Cellach smiled and laughed during the meal. He seemed to be sharing jokes with Aidan, no jokes that no one else knew." I couldn't resist trying my hand at capturing that scene. As I pondered what old jokes Cellach and Aidan would have, my mind went to Saemi67's Secret of Kells Cutscenes, specifically the segment called Adversi (Mischief) where Aidan catches young Cellach pranking his master. She graciously agreed to let me reference that scene here (thanks again! ^^). Gallagher is her creation who appears here with her permission. Go read the full scene-actually, read all of the Cutscenes, they are wonderful!_


	9. The Forest

Chapter 9: The Forest

I instructed the brothers that today, they would work on the wall, dawn to evening bell.

At dawn… _all_ of the Illuminators fail to appear. Brendan is nowhere to be found, either.

There's still work to be done. I organize the villagers and the monks who have come. I lift stone and arrange plans and hope, even though I realize I'm being foolish, that they will come, that they are just running late. Of course they don't come. I can feel my temper boiling more and more as time goes on.

At last I leave the wall and make my way to the scriptorium. I enter to find the Brothers rearranging the desks to Brother Aidan's specifications. These same men who dodge my every command and find any excuse to neglect the work I've set them nearly trip over themselves in their rush to follow Aidan's instructions.

It seems they need a reminder who is truly Abbot here. And where is Brendan? I expected to find him here in the thick of the excitement, but there is no sign of him.

"Good morning, Abbot!" Aidan smiles at me, although his smile falters as he studies my expression. "Is there a problem?"

"What are you doing?" I gesture at the desks.

"The Brothers asked me to instruct them in Illumination," Aidan says. "First, I'm teaching them the best way to layout the—"

"Put the desks back as they were before," I say. Yesterday, I told him at least twice that we have no time for illumination here. He is new to Kells, but after our discussions, he should know better than to be in here giving the Brothers lessons.

"But, uh…" Aidan says, "on Iona we always arranged them—"

"This is not Iona." Iona may have created beautiful illuminations, but did that protect the Brothers when the Northmen came? Here in Kells we have more important work to do than mere illustrations. "The scriptorium will be arranged according to _my_ instructions." I stride forward to Brother Leonardo and Brother Square, pushing their desk back into place.

"But it's not a good—" Aidan argues.

"It will be as I say." I keep my voice calm, but my face twists with anger. I am the Abbot of Kells. My word should be obeyed—not questioned, not ignored, not mocked. Aidan is still a stranger to these men. He only arrived yesterday! Yet here they are, hanging on his every word.

The door crashes open. "Brother Aidan!" Brendan's voice, bubbling with excitement. "I found them! I…." He trails off as he sees me, ducking his head and hiding something behind his back. So. He's been off on an errand for Brother Aidan when he knew I needed him at the wall. My own nephew seeks Aidan's company over mine.

"Well, Brendan," I say, "It's about time we saw you today." I slide my hand over the desk and turn, walking towards my nephew. He's coated in mud, a couple of leaves stuck to his sleeve. What could he have been doing? "Where have you been? Hmm?"

I leave the scriptorium, knowing Brendan will follow. We will have this discussion in private, away from the Brothers.

I can hear Brendan trailing along behind me, but he doesn't speak.

"I'm listening," I say. "Where were you?"

"I… I went into the forest."

The forest?! He went outside the safety of Kells?

"Just for a little while," Brendan says, "not very long. Just to… It was for Brother Aidan…"

I stop. Of course it was. Bad enough that the man may have lead the Vikings to us, that he's turned the Brothers' backs on the work of the wall. He has to send my nephew out _alone_ in the depths of the forest doing who knows what…

Whatever it is, it's not worth Brendan's life. There are dangers in those trees that he could not combat. He's only a boy.

But no matter what Brother Aidan said, Brendan should have known better.

"Brendan." I press a hand against my temples, fighting off a headache. "Have I not warned you enough about what lies outside these walls?"

"Yes, but…"

"Yet, you disobey me." I turn to give him a stern look.

"I know," Brendan says, "but for the Book…" His tone is not guilty—instead, he sounds as though he thinks this is a simple misunderstanding.

 _The Book._ It would have better if Brother Aidan had not come here.

"Brendan." I hold out a hand, stopping his words. "You are _never_ to leave the abbey again without my permission."

"Uncle, if you see the Book…" Still that tone, as if he can persuade me.

I lean down so we are at the same eye level. "Do. You. Understand?" I don't care if the Book depends on it, it's not safe for him to venture outside Kells.

"Yes, Uncle." His head droops.

"Good."

He's never tried to argue with me before. He never would have dared to leave Kells. How has Aidan so quickly influenced him this way? He's been here all of one day. Less than that, even.

Aidan stands at the door of the scriptorium, watching us. One thing is certain. I need to keep Brendan away from him.

"Now, come along." I head towards the tower. "There are matters to be tended to in the workroom." I'll keep Brendan close to me today. There will be no more trips outside the wall.

Inside the workroom I grip the edge of my desk, forcing myself to take a deep breath. My hands are shaking. Brendan's first most important lesson has always been to stay inside Kells. I can't believe that he would defy me. My mind goes to all the dangers he could have run into in those trees—Northmen, wild beasts, deep pools and streams where he might have drowned. I conjure up an image of Brendan racing through the forest, wolves snapping at his heels. It's enough to make me shudder.

How could Aidan have sent him out there?

"Uncle?" Brendan watches me uncertainly.

I shake my head, forcing myself to concentrate. "I need to find the plans for the west wall," I say. "Help me find them."

Brendan sorts through the plans with me. I'm not really seeing any of them as I shift through the pile. I should have realized sooner that Brendan was missing. I should have looked for him instead of assuming he was in the scriptorium. I should have made sure that he was beside me before I worked on the wall. The wall is everything—it's the only thing ensuring Kells' survival. But I've let myself be so caught up in it that I didn't notice when my nephew was at risk. What if he never made it back home? What good is the wall if Brendan perishes outside it?

"Uncle?" Brendan pulls at the blueprint I'm clenching in my hands. "Um… Isn't this it?"

He's right. I smooth the parchment across the desk. "It is. Thank you."

I didn't look for Brendan because I trusted him. He'd never ventured outside the wall. It didn't occur to me that he ever would. If I can't trust him anymore, what am I to do? I can't keep my eyes on him always. I'm the Abbot of Kells. I have many responsibilities that occupy my time.

Another deep breath. He's a boy. Aidan mislead him. I've told him that he cannot ever leave without my permission—and he may have argued, but he did agree. He's always been an obedient child… Even today, he was honest with me about where he'd been, although he must have known I would be angry.

Surely he won't do this again.

I look up at him. He's stopped watching me. Instead, he's looking longingly towards the window.

"Brendan," I say. "Do you not realize how dangerous it is beyond the wall? You could have been killed. There are things out there, wild beasts—"

"Wolves…" Brendan mutters.

"Yes, wolves. And likely worse than that."

He meets my gaze. "But I was safe, Uncle. There are wonders in the forest, too. Beautiful trees, taller than the wall. Butterflies and beetles and… Well…"

"You won't enjoy those wonders if you're dead."

"I'm not, Uncle." He moves closer, hesitantly reaching to take my arm. "I'm all right."

Thank the heavens for that. I close my eyes and rub at my temple, trying to marshal my thoughts again. "I want you to stay that way."

"I will!" Brendan says. "You said there was work to be done."

"Hmm." My lips quirk upwards just slightly. Clever lad, trying to distract me with the wall. A trick that usually would work quite well. "There is." I sigh. I know I won't be able to stop thinking about this today. But I've already made my thoughts clear, Brendan has agreed to stay within Kells… There is nothing left to say. I'll keep a closer eye on the boy, but hopefully this was a one time mistake and he'll keep his word.

I'd feel more certain of that if he didn't speak of the forest in such glowing terms.

I finally scan over the blueprint, jabbing a finger at some of the supports we have not yet constructed. "Once we finish our work on the north wall, we'll need to move here next…"

Brendan works beside me all day. His work is uneven. He knows I am deeply displeased with him, so sometimes he works with a fervor, twice as hard as any other day. Other times I catch him staring off into the distance, his thoughts elsewhere.

I'm not in much better shape, myself.

We're halfway through the day before I realize I left all the Illuminators in the scriptorium. I suppose it was inevitable they'd spend the day there anyway. We make a detour to collect them. I send Brendan off with the rest of them so I can speak to Aidan alone.

"Abbot," Aidan says, "I meant no disrespect this morning. I only wanted—"

"How could you send the boy out into the forest?" I say. "He's a child. So much could have befallen him."

Aidan spreads his hands in surrender. "I didn't know he'd gone. I spoke to him about going to find some berries together, but he said he wasn't allowed to leave Kells. I didn't realize he would strike out on his own."

I close my eyes, my anger slightly assuaged. Although this portrays Brendan's disobedience in a very willful light.

"The forest is dangerous," Aidan says, "but it is also marvelous. In nature we often see miracles… You knew that once."

"That was very long ago," I say, "when I understood as a child does." I open my eyes. "Brendan is my nephew. He is under _my_ care and my responsibility. I need you to respect that."

"I do, Abbot," Aidan says softly. "But… the boy is growing. It's time that he make his own decisions, rather than just following yours."

He's known Brendan for one day. He doesn't understand. "He's a boy. There's still too much he doesn't know."

"But there's much he _does_ know. And so much of learning comes from exploring on one's own."

I meet Aidan's eyes squarely. "He will not leave Kells again."

Aidan inclines his head. "As you wish."

I leave him there in the scriptorium. He is too frail to help with the wall. I scan the scaffolding, seeking Brendan. At first I can't find him. Has he left Kells again? But then I spot him laughing beside Brother Leonardo.

I go to him. "Brendan, I need your help." For the rest of the day I make sure he never leaves my side.


	10. Missing

**Chapter 10: Missing**

I rise early the next morning. As I leave the tower, I hover beside Brendan's door. I'm tempted to check to see if he is still inside. But it's so early… Of course he's inside, peacefully sleeping. I don't want to wake him up.

As soon as I step outside, one of the brothers waves me over. "Abbot, a new group of refugees has arrived at the gate. They are requesting shelter here."

"I'll see to it." I approach the gate and gesture to the brothers posted there to open the doors.

Outside, a small family huddles tightly together. An elderly couple, frail and tired. A woman with a babe in arms, another with her small daughter. They all stare up at me with huge frightened eyes. I step to the side and gesture for them to come in. So few… Where have they come from? Did the rest of their village perish?

I scan the tree line, watching for any sign that the Northmen have followed them here. All seems peaceful. But how could I know, really? I motion for the doors to be closed.

I escort the family to the refectory. Here Brother Leonardo will feed them, and Brother Tang will take care of any wounds that need treatment. Then they will be assigned a hut—we always have a few spares built and stocked, ready for new arrivals. The family is quiet as they follow me.

"Welcome to Kells," I tell them. "You will be safe here behind our walls." They gaze up at the wall, and it may be my imagination, but it seems some of the tension goes out of their shoulders. "Please…" I hesitate to ask, but I must know. "Where are you coming from?"

It's the old man who speaks. The village he names is to the North of Kells, some distance away but much, much too near for my comfort. "We managed to hide ourselves until the Northmen left," he said. His eyes close. "But we were close enough to hear the screams of the others…"

The shorter of the young women speaks next, her voice barely a whisper. "Most of our family didn't make it."

"I grieve with you," I say. "I too have lost family to the Northmen. If you wish, I will join you in prayer for them once you have settled in."

"We would like that," the woman says.

I leave them with Leonardo, heading back to the tower to wake Brendan for the day's work. I have always regretted that I didn't arrive sooner to Ceather's village. But if I had to be too late… perhaps it's best I wasn't there to hear her last dying cries, helpless to do anything to save her. I shudder.

Perhaps I should bring Brendan with me when I pray with this family. They might remind him of the dangers awaiting outside of Kells, of the crucial importance of the wall for everyone here. I swing Brendan's door open and bend down to call to him. "Brendan, it's time to—"

He's not there. His bed is empty, already made. My heart freezes mid-beat. Where could he be? Surely, he has not returned to the forest? Not today, not on a day when the Northmen could be near.

I force myself to take a deep breath. I can't panic. Brendan could be many places. Maybe he's waiting for me in my workroom. Maybe he's off chasing a goose somewhere. We just spoke about this yesterday. He knows he's forbidden to leave the abbey—he wouldn't go out. Would he? No, no, he must be somewhere within Kells. I just need to find him.

I check my workroom first. He's not there, but I survey Kells through my window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. There are no signs of him. All is peaceful and quiet. Most villagers are still asleep.

He's in the forest, isn't he? Or… just indoors somewhere. Deep breaths. He _must_ be here.

I roam the grounds of Kells, keeping a sharp eye out for him. Still nothing. Maybe he's gone to the refectory for breakfast? But wouldn't I have seen him? I double back to check anyway. Inside, Leonardo is serving the refugee family their meal. He looks up at me in surprise. The family looks up too, and when they see my face, they become alarmed.

I force a smile that more resembles a grimace. "Everything's fine. I'm just looking for my nephew."

"He hasn't come by here, Abbot," Leonardo says.

I nod and step back outside. If Brendan has gone to the forest, we'll need to send a search party as quickly as possible. The longer he's outside, the more likely he is to be—

No. I must not think of that.

Where else could he be? I try calling for him. "Brendan?" My voice carries across Kells, but there's no response, no child coming running.

Maybe he's in the scriptorium. Of course. I quicken my footsteps as I approach. "Brendan?" But the scriptorium door is open, and Brendan doesn't respond from within.

I circle through the huts, listening hard. Maybe he just can't hear me? I try again, louder. "Brendan!"

Nothing. Still nothing. I close my eyes. He has gone out into the forest. Who knows what awaits him there? Dark images race through my mind—Brendan dashed to bits by a Viking blade. Devoured by wolves. Bitten by a snake.

"BRENDAN!" I scream so that even the forest must hear.

He still doesn't answer.

I'm running now, checking in between every hut, inside every pen. The villagers give me strange looks as I go. He's not here. When did he leave? Has he been gone all night? Surely he would know better than to venture forth in the dark?

I stop, massaging my temples. This isn't helping. It's time to assemble a search party. Time to talk to Aidan—maybe he'll have some idea where the boy would go.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. I whip around, and there Brendan is, running towards me. He stops suddenly, staring at his hands, and then bends down to pet one of the pigs in a sty. What's he doing?

I storm towards him. He still hasn't answered me, but I know he must have heard me. Why is he ignoring me? What is he doing out here at this time of day?

Brendan sees me. He straightens up.

"Where have you been so early?" I snap.

He comes to meet me, his arms clasped behind his back. He looks at the ground, then up at me, his expression contrite. He doesn't speak.

No mud or leaves on his robes today. No signs he did venture into the forest. He stayed here in Kells, then. It doesn't really matter where he's been, as long as it was within the walls. He's here. He's all right.

"Come along, there's much work to be done." I head towards the workroom, Brendan running along behind me.

I breathe deeply as we go. Brendan is all right. He's safe within the walls of Kells, out of the Northmen's grasp.

But the Northmen are coming ever nearer, and there is so much work to be done. I grimace, thinking of the time I've wasted this morning looking for a boy who wasn't missing.

 _Author note: My personal head canon for why Cellach is screaming for Brendan as Aidan tries to talk him into doing the Chi Ro page. The timing makes sense to me. Brendan ventures into the forest and shakes Cellach's trust in him. Then the next day a band of refugees show up from a nearby village, reporting that there's been another Northmen attack. We see Cellach welcoming them into Kells, and the very next scene is Aidan and Brendan's discussion about the Chi Ro page. It makes sense to me that Cellach went to wake up Brendan (like he does the very next day, when he wakes Brendan up from his Chi Ro page nightmare) and then freaks out because Brendan isn't there and he's afraid he's gone out into the forest again when the Northmen could be close by._

 _I like to think Cellach's relieved when he finds Brendan (although also annoyed Brendan didn't answer him or come earlier—and he must have been so confused why Brendan felt the need to stop and pet the pigs—he's looking right at Brendan while that happens!). In my mind, that's why he doesn't push Brendan too hard to figure out where he was. He says, "Where have you been so early?" but then for once he just lets it go instead of making Brendan answer him._


	11. Sacrifice

**Chapter 11: Sacrifice**

Tang soon comes to the workroom to summon me. "Abbot… Our newest family is waiting for you in the chapel."

"Thank you, Tang. I'll be with them shortly." As he leaves, I glance at my nephew. Brendan has been very distracted this morning, even more so than normal. "Brendan… I'd like you to come with me."

He snaps back to attention. "Which plans do we need?"

"We're not going to the wall. We're meeting with some of the refugees in the chapel. They've asked me to pray with them for their lost loved ones."

"Oh." Brendan's eyes widen. I don't usually ask him to accompany me on such tasks. The refugees have more privacy to discuss their woes with me if I come alone, and besides, there is always other work that Brendan can be doing during such meetings.

And… I've been reluctant to expose him to the deep grief and sadness of such people, driven to Kells by terrible tragedy and suffering. Brendan's childhood has not been the easiest, growing up in an abbey, but he's grown to be a happy, optimistic child.

But he's been foolhardy enough to venture outside the walls of Kells. Maybe he has been too sheltered. He doesn't really understand the dangers that are out there. He can only take my word on them, and now he has Aidan and all of the Brothers assuring him that I'm wrong.

"Remember that these people are going through a very trying time," I say. "Treat them with kindness. You need not say much—I will be counseling with them—but if they speak to you, please tell them that you are sorry for their loss."

Brendan squares his small shoulders, but he's chewing his lip nervously. "All right, Uncle."

We enter the chapel to find the family seated in the first pew. The older couple cling tightly to each other. Beside them, the tall woman rocks her sleeping infant. The shorter woman holds her daughter tightly in her lap. All of them stand as we approach.

"You found your nephew," the toddler's mother says. A faint trace of a smile graces her lips.

Brendan looks startled.

"I did," I say. I place an arm around his shoulders. "This is my nephew, Brendan. Do you mind if he joins us?"

The oldest woman speaks next. "No, of course not. Hello, Brendan." She extends a hand to Brendan. He hesitates, then takes it. "I am Aigneis. Thank you for coming to remember our loved ones."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Brendan says, and stares at his feet.

I move to stand before them all. The family sits. Brendan looks around, at a loss where to go, and settles for sitting on the pew behind the refugees. "Often, newcomers here like to counsel with me before we pray," I say. "Sometimes… discussing what they've gone through helps brings peace. Other times, they prefer not to speak of what they've seen. Let me know what would best help you."

The family is silent, looking at each other.

The toddler's mother hugs her daughter to her. "It was terrible, Abbot," she whispers. "They came upon us so suddenly. We woke up to the sound of screams… There was no time for us to find the rest of our family, our friends. We could only flee." She shudders. "My sister Niamh's husband—" The woman beside her cringes and turns away. "Naoirse. He stayed behind to… to try to fight them off, to distract them long enough for us to get away."

"I should have stayed," her sister speaks suddenly. "Maybe, I could have helped turn the tide…"

Aigneis puts her arm around Niamh. "There were too many, Niamh. You couldn't have saved him—you could only have died with him."

"Maybe I should have," Niamh whispers. She breaks into tears.

"No," Aigneis says, and reaches to stroke the baby's face. "Your little one needs you."

The smaller woman rests her hand on his sister's arm. "Naoirse wanted you and the baby to be safe."

"I mourn with you," I say gently. "Naoirse was truly brave... He must have loved you very much. I am certain he is grateful you are safe."

Niamh meets my eyes, but looks down quickly, holding her baby tighter to her chest. Tears drip down her face.

Behind them, Brendan ducks his head, his face solemn.

"I should have been the one to stay behind," Niamh whispers.

I have seen this kind of heartbreak so many times before. There is so little I can do to help. "Naoirse sacrificed his life for you," I say, "but you are called to a different kind of sacrifice. Sometimes, the most painful sacrifice is still living once our loved ones have gone on. Your child needs you. All of your family needs you."

The women hold Niamh more tightly. The father leans forward so he can grasp her arm as well.

"We do need you," he says.

"You can't bring Naoirse back. But you can honor his sacrifice by accepting his gift, accepting your chance to keep living, to keep caring for your child. He is beyond pain now, beyond the grasp of the Northmen… but not beyond you. He watches over you now. He'll want you to be happy."

Niamh gasps through her sobs.

"That won't come yet," I say. "But life will not always be as dark as it feels now."

Niamh nods. "T…Thank you." Her head bows farther. I know my words haven't lifted her pain, but… I hope they've helped her, at least a little bit. "Keep going, Bree," Niamh says.

Her sister rubs Niamh's arm as she continues speaking. "We were not the only ones to flee," she says. "We hid ourselves in a small cave where we used to play as children… It's difficult to see in the underbrush of the forest. There was only enough room for us inside. Others hid nearby in the rocks and trees, but… the Northmen found them…" She stops speaking, breaking into sobs.

Her father's head droops. "All we could do was listen." His eyes glass over as he remembers.

Brendan fidgets, his eyes large. He reaches out a hand towards Bree, but draws it back, looking up at me uncertainly. I nod to him, and he pats her shoulder. She jumps, twisting to look back at him.

"S… sorry," Brendan says. "I'm so sorry…"

"Thank you." She manages a weak smile for him before she turns back around.

Her father speaks again. "We went back to the village afterwards, to see if we could aid anyone… but there was nothing left. No one alive." He bows his head. "I think what's hardest for all of us, Abbot, is the sense that we could have done more, that somehow, we could have saved our friends…"

"I understand that feeling very well," I say softly. "I…" I hesitate. On occasion, I speak of Ceather and Bronach when I'm counseling with refugees, but I rarely speak of them with Brendan. "I arrived too late to save my sister and her husband, when the Northmen came," I say at last. "So many times over the years, I have asked myself what I could have done differently, how I could have protected them. But we are mortal, and we are limited. There was nothing more you could have done. If you'd tried to help them, you would have been killed too."

"Maybe we should have been," Niamh whispers.

"No," I say. "No one should have been. Your friends, your neighbors, they are in God's hands now. They are beyond the mortal sufferings we endure, far beyond a fear of the Northmen. And they are grateful that you are safe and well."

They are all in tears now, heads bowed. Brendan is crying too. Seeing the anguish on his face stabs through me. I shouldn't have done this to him. There are better ways to teach this lesson.

"Let us pray together," I say.

After wards, as the family trickles from the chapel, the little girl runs and grabs me around the knees. "You'll keep us safe here?" she asks.

I pat her head. Looking down at her little face, I remember Brendan as a toddler asking me if the bad men would come back. "You are safe here behind our walls," I say. "You don't have to be afraid." I look up at the adults. "I'll have one of the brothers show you to your hut."

Brendan stays in the chapel while I lead them away. I return to find him kneeling in prayer. At my approach, he stands up, wiping tears away with his sleeve.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

He sniffs, nodding. "I just feel so sad for them. For all the refugees. I wish I could do more to help them."

"You can, Brendan. You can keep helping me on the wall. They are counting on us for protection. We need to ensure this never happens to them again."

Brendan nods again, but his eyes grow distant. "Maybe… we can do more than that."

"What?"

He tips his head back to look up at me. "You met with them today to help them. You talked to them about what they saw, what happened to them. You prayed with them."

"Yes…"

"You were trying to give them hope," Brendan says. "Uncle, the Book can give them hope too."

I sigh, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. This isn't going the way I envisioned. "I'm not denying that the Word in the Book brings hope, Brendan. But we need more than hope. If we do nothing but illuminate books, we will be helpless when the Northmen arrive. We _must_ defend ourselves. These people come to Kells seeking our protection, and we cannot fail them."

"But, Uncle, couldn't we—"

"If their village had been protected, they wouldn't be mourning right now," I say.

"I know, but—"

"This is not an argument, Brendan. There is no other choice. The wall must come first."

He inclines his head, giving up. But inside I know he's still arguing with me. This was a mistake.

"We need to get back to the wall," I say. "There is still much work to be done."

I sweep towards the chapel doors, Brendan following me as he always does.

But then he asks, "What was it like… when the Northmen destroyed my village?"

I stop. I can't hold back another sigh. "We've talked about that before."

"No we haven't, not really. The Brothers have told me some things… You've said a little bit, but not much…"

I turn to face him. He looks up at me earnestly, tear marks still staining his face. How can I tell him the horrors I saw that day?

I close my eyes. "I'm grateful you don't remember that day, Brendan. You don't want to remember that day."

"I just want to understand," Brendan says. "I was there."

I lower my head. I don't want to tell him. But maybe hearing his own story will impact him more than the refugees did."We weren't prepared," I say slowly. "We'd heard rumors of the Northmen attacking—but only distant ones. I don't know that I'd met a refugee from the Northmen then… Never heard a firsthand account. The attack seemed to come out of nowhere. Your parents fought bravely—they died protecting you. By the time I made it to the village, it was nothing but a sea of flames." I sag backwards, leaning against the nearest pew. The images play before me as if I'm still there now. "It was so quiet, except for the crackle of fire. I was too late to hear screams. But I could hear one crying baby…"

"Me."

"Yes. When I made it to your hut… I found your parents, already slaughtered." I shake my head, willing myself not to dwell on that memory. "You were too young to understand what had happened. You were so happy to see me… I tried to flee with you, but the Northmen caught us. They… ripped you from me. They tried to slaughter you before my eyes. But I couldn't let that happen." I stroke the scar on my cheek.

"You fought them."

"I fought them," I say grimly. I killed a Northman with his own blade—the only time I've ever taken a man's life. "I brought you home with me."

Brendan stares at my scar. "Thank you for saving me," he says softly. "I know it was very dangerous for you."

My throat chokes up. "It was worth it," I say. "If I had to die to save you, I would have done it."

Brendan is crying again. "I'm glad you didn't, Uncle."

I'm embarrassed to catch myself being so sentimental. "That's what family does," I say gruffly. "We protect each other. That's what Niamh's husband did." I straighten up. "But I don't intend to let the Northmen destroy Kells. We won't face that again."

"I know, Uncle."

"Our wall will protect us, and we will be safe here. But we have to finish first. Let's get back to work."

I brush at my face as I head for the door.

"Do you still miss them?" Brendan asks.

My voice trembles a bit as I answer. "Everyday."

 _Author's Note:_ _Special thanks to_ _Saemi67_ _for sharing her character development for Bree and her family! She's given them names and fleshed out their back stories—you can learn more about them in her works._


	12. Doubt

**Chapter 12: Doubt**

"Brendan!" I peer down into Brendan's cell. He jerks awake, sitting up in his bed. "We're moving the scaffolding to the west wall. Hurry along now!"

Brendan is quick to join me, but he seems subdued. He's worried about something, chewing on his lip with his eyes glassed over.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

He looks up at me, then shrugs and looks away. "Bad dreams last night."

I rest my hand on his shoulder. I understand all about nightmares. "Dreams are just imaginary things. Whatever you saw wasn't real."

"I know, Uncle."

Since Aidan arrived, Brendan's work is often more distracted than normal. Today is different, though. It's not that he's distracted from his work, it's that he keeps second guessing himself—double checking plans before he hands them over, running back to ask me again which brother he should take a blueprint to.

I'm at the top of the wall checking our work against my plans when Brendan approaches me again. "Uncle, I have what you asked for… I think…" He's so focused on fumbling through the blueprints in his arms, looking for the right one, that he stumbles and slips from the scaffolding.

"Brendan!" I drop the plans and seize him around the middle, yanking him back to where he can get his footing.

We both freeze, staring over the edge to the ground far below. I close my eyes, trying to block out the image of what could have just happened—Brendan, plummeting down to his death. I hug my nephew tightly. I'm almost afraid to let go—frightened that if I do he will go over the edge.

I breath deeply and pull him farther onto the scaffolding. "Brendan! You must be more careful!" I release him, and he turns to face me.

"I'm s…sorry Uncle." He's shaking, his face ashen. "I… I dropped the blueprints…"

"I don't care about that. You could have died!" He nods, wincing. "What is wrong with you today?"

"Just the same thing that's wrong with me everyday," he says. "I'm a disappointment. I make too many mistakes. I can't do things right." He whirls around and runs down the scaffolding.

"Brendan! Slow down! That's not safe…" I sigh, hanging my head. I heard my own words echoing in his speech.

The boy does often disappoint me. I try to be patient with him, only to have him repeat the same mistakes again and again. When I'm harsh with him, it's because I don't know what else to do. I didn't mean for him to internalize things this way.

I need to go after him, but I don't know what to say. I've never been any good at this. I trudge down the scaffolding.

I find Brendan scooping plans out of the mud at the base of the wall. "Brendan…"

"We might still be able to read them, Uncle," he says, brushing mud off one set of plans with his sleeve. "Or… or, I can help you redraw them…"

"Don't worry about that now." I don't know how to begin. What would Ceather say to him? What would my parents have said? "Brendan… You're not a disappointment. Sometimes you do disappoint me, but… you can do things right. I've always known that. That's why I want you to be Abbot someday."

He looks away. "But you worry every single day that I won't be a good Abbot."

I rub at my temple. "Being an Abbot is… very difficult, especially in these trying times with the Northmen coming near. I have many responsibilities, many people counting on me for their lives." I shake my head. "I know I'm not perfect, Brendan, but I do my best to serve our people and keep Kells safe. That's all an Abbot can do. I just… I want you to grow to be a better Abbot than I am, to not make the same mistakes I have."

Brendan doesn't speak.

"You can do things right," I say. "When you want to do something, you make sure it gets done. You may lose focus when I ask you to fetch plans or when we're planning out the wall… but when the Brothers ask you to find quills, you'll chase the goose across all of Kells until you pin it down. When you want to learn to draw something new, you practice on your slate until you master it."

Brendan smiles a little bit.

"You need to change your focus to the things that will matter the most," I say, "but when you do that, you will be a great Abbot."

"What if I'm not, though?" Brendan asks. "What if I make mistakes? What if I ruin things?"

I don't tell him the truth. Being Abbot means struggling with those issues everyday. Constantly wondering, am I doing enough? Am I working fast enough? What if I fail the people of Kells? What if the Northmen come before we are ready?

"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes," I say. "But you can't let that stop you from trying. You will do better if you try then if you do nothing at all."

Brendan sighs now, staring at his feet.

"You will be fine," I say. "I'm teaching you and preparing you now so you will know what to do when the day comes. You won't be Abbot tomorrow… You still have a lot to learn, but there's time for you to learn it."

"I guess so."

I'm not sure how to cheer him up. Maybe he needs a task that he knows he can do. "I could use some new quills."

His head comes up at that. "Quills?"

"Could you fetch some for me? Then… when you have them, we'll go back to the workroom. You can help me redraw these plans." I don't particularly want him up on the scaffolding again today.

A real smile finally cracks across his face. "I can do that."

"Thank you, Brendan." He heads off to find the goose. "Brendan!" He glances back at me. "If the goose goes up on the scaffolding…"

"I'll be careful, Uncle." He grins now. "I'm tough, anyway. I can fall off high things and still be fine!" He runs off.

I don't know what to think about _that_.


	13. Suspicion

Chapter 13: Suspicion

Summer quickly fades into autumn. More refugees crowd our gates every day. The Vikings' attacks are drawing nearer. I push myself and my people to build the wall with a greater fervor than ever. They will be upon us soon, I am sure of it.

Brendan works with a dedication I've never seen in him before. He no longer wanders away to the Scriptorium, but works diligently beside me. Somehow, he understands my vision better than before. Was it talking with Bree's family that did it? Or hearing of his parents? Maybe it's knowing that I believe in him, that I think he can be a great Abbot someday.

I've kept a close eye on Brendan since Aidan came, careful to steer him away from Aidan when I can. But as more days pass and Brendan labors on the wall, I realize he doesn't need my close supervision—he's staying on task, and I have too much to do to always be watching my nephew.

This might be a mistake. A day comes when I'm not certain where Brendan is. Plans need to be fetched, and I decide I will do it myself. As I'm walking towards the tower, I catch a glimpse of Brendan hurrying towards the Scriptorium. His hands are filled with autumn leaves. Of course, there are some small trees here within Kells… but he's glancing all around him as if he's afraid of being seen.

"Brendan!"

He freezes. He shoves the leaves behind his back and then brings them out again. "Uncle!"

"Where are you off to?"

His head bows. His brows come together as he thinks. "I… I was bringing these to Brother Aidan." He shows the handful of leaves. "The colors are so beautiful. I thought they might be an inspiration to him as he draws."

"Did he ask you to do this?"

"No," Brendan says. "I just thought… there are many trees in the Book…"

"And where did you get these leaves?"

Brendan blinks up at me. "There are trees inside of Kells, Uncle."

I glare down at him, but he doesn't cringe or show any signs of guilt. He's never been good at hiding it when he's done something wrong. I relax slightly. "I need you to go to the tower and fetch some plans for me."

"I will, Uncle. I'll give these to Aidan first—I'll be very quick, promise!" He darts off before I can speak. He throws the door open wide. I watch as he runs to the back of the Scriptorium, dodging a few brothers on the way (all of them glance out the door at me and then duck their heads) to reach Brother Aidan. Brendan presents the leaves with a flourish. Aidan grins and ruffles Brendan's hair, and Brendan returns his smile. It's a simple exchange, but it cuts into me. Aidan has always had a gift for putting others at ease, for winning their affection with his kindness.

I have a gift for frightening people and making them hate me. Even Brendan cowers from me sometimes.

Right on cue, Brendan gestures back at me. I can't make out what he's saying, but Brendan and Aidan both shoot me an anxious look. Aidan waves a hand in greeting. Brendan dashes back to my side.

"How often have you been visiting Brother Aidan, Brendan?"

"Not that often," Brendan says. "I've been working hard on the wall, Uncle. You know that."

"Mmm." Has he? I decide I need to keep a careful watch on him again. And on Aidan. "The plans I want should be on my desk. I need the ones for the north wall…"

While Brendan visits the tower, I visit the brothers at the gate. Brother Molan, the chief gatekeeper, comes out to meet me. Though he is much shorter than me, his frame is burly from years of laboring on the wall. If he had to take on a Viking, he would have at least half a chance. "Has my nephew come through here today?" I ask.

"Your nephew?" Brother Molan scratches at his thick brown beard. "He's never gone through the gates, Abbot. Not since the day you brought him here."

"All right. See that it stays that way."

He nods, brows furrowed in confusion. "He's never even tried to come through the gates, Abbot."

"Good." Molan thinks I'm being ridiculous. He's probably right…

Then again… Brendan has left Kells at least once. Either Molan was not at his post then, or Brendan has found another way out. My mind goes to the small opening behind the Scriptorium. But very few brothers know about that—I've taken great care to conceal it. Could Brendan have really stumbled upon it? That's something I can't exactly ask him. "Brendan, do you know about the secret passage to the forest?" I'll keep a close eye on him.

A week passes. I don't see any signs that Brendan is visiting the forest.

I do see signs that he is spending more time with Aidan. More and more, Aidan comes up in our conversation.

One day I am examining plans near the top of the wall when Brendan grabs my sleeve. "Uncle, look!" His voice is cheerful, but my head jerks upright, my senses alert. I scan the trees, expecting to see Northmen approaching.

"It's a deer!" Brendan says, pointing. "They almost never come this close to Kells."

"Yes…" I realize I've crushed the plans in my grip. I spread them out again, smoothing them with one hand. "Brendan… It's… good to be vigilant about anything coming through the forest, but…"

"I've never seen one that's all white like that," Brendan says. "Brother Aidan told me a story about St. Patrick, when he had to turn himself and his monks into deer to escape from a king that attacked—"

"When have you seen a deer, Brendan?" I interrupt. "And… when did Brother Aidan tell you this story?"

Brendan looks up at me blankly. "Deer do come close sometimes, Uncle. I don't remember when Brother Aidan told me, just one time when we were talking…"

"How often do you talk to him?"

"When I visit the Scriptorium," Brendan says. "Sometimes they still need me to help there."

"Well, right now I need you to help _here_. Stay focused please."

A few days later, I come upon Brendan on the scaffolding. I can see he's delivered plans to Brother Square as I asked, but the scroll remains closed. Instead, they are deep in conversation. Brendan is saying, "Brother Aidan says that a line drawn well is as much of an act of worship as praying—"

"And building a wall to protect the flock in one's care," I say, "is just as much an act of worship as illumination."

Brendan and Brother Square draw back, eyes wide.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven," I say. "Right now it is a time to build up, not a time to illuminate."

"Of course, Abbot." Brother Square turns his back to me and spreads the plans wide, looking them over closely.

Brendan chews his lip as he looks up at me. "Is it a time for me to fetch more plans?"

"Yes. I need some from my workroom…"

He runs off to find what I need. I watch him go, remembering all the times I overheard him discussing what _I_ said.

I try to spend more time with him. We begin taking our midday meal separate from the others. I have Brother Tang bring the food to my workroom, so we can sketch out plans and discuss the wall even as we eat.

The first day, Brendan sits at my desk to await the meal. I pick up some chalk and find the right spot on the diagrams I've sketched on the wall. "All right, Brendan, if you look at this section of the east wall, you can see we haven't fortified it properly. We need to…" I glance back at him.

Brendan is fast asleep, his head cradled on his arm.

I sigh. Brendan does have a predilection for taking naps at odd times. I cross the room to rouse him, stretching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

"Leave him be, Abbot." Brother Tang appears at the top of the stairs, bearing our meal on a tray. "He's been working very hard lately. He must be exhausted."

I hesitate, then pull my arm back. Brendan has been working much more diligently than he used to. And… after all, he is only a boy.

"All right," I say softly. "Here, I'll take the tray."

Brendan hasn't woken by the time I've finished eating. I finally carry him to my bed and leave him there to keep resting.

He joins me at the wall a couple of hours later, his hair still mussed from sleep. "Sorry, Uncle! I was trying to listen."

I look down at him. He's got bags under his eyes. "Brendan… are you all right? Did you not sleep last night?"

He shrugs.

"Is it…" I look around, noting that there are brothers nearby, and lower my voice. "Is it nightmares?"

Brendan yawns. "I don't have dreams very often anymore," he says. "But sometimes I don't sleep well."

"You better go to sleep early tonight."

Brendan heads for his cell right after dinner. Now that I think about it… that's what he does most nights.

The next day, he's still tired. I swear the bags under his eyes are deeper than before. His gaze is often bleary and unfocused. And during our midday meal, he falls asleep again.

"Do you think he's getting sick?" I ask Tang when he arrives with the food.

Tang shakes his head. "It's possible. But I think he's just working harder than he's used to. He is trying very hard to please you, Abbot."

Brendan shifts slightly but doesn't wake. Somehow he looks even younger when he is sleeping.

"I'm not overworking him," I say. "He runs about and delivers plans, but I spare him from most of the stone work…"

"Maybe he is nearing a growth spurt, that always makes children tired," Tang says. "I wouldn't worry, Abbot."

Did he just tell me not to worry? Does he know me at all?

I carry Brendan to my bed again and leave him there. He's a little quicker to return to the wall today. "I'm so sorry, Uncle! I can't believe I did that again!"

"Maybe you need a day off, Brendan," I say. "Go… go rest."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Brendan seems a little too happy as he rushes away.

"Brendan!"

"Yes, Uncle?" He looks back, his smile replaced by concern.

"Go to your cell and _rest_. I don't want to find that you've gone to the Scriptorium instead."

"Of course, Uncle. I won't go to the Scriptorium."

I decide to check on Brendan an hour or so later, but Brother Assoua detains me on my way. He thinks he may have spotted something strange on the far side of the wall.

A thorough examination of the trees doesn't reveal anything. Of course I don't want to send anyone out to check further. On an impulse, I fling rock towards the trees. The motion and the noise startles birds from the trees, but nothing else appears. I pull a couple brothers from gate duty to patrol the scaffolding and watch for signs of trouble.

I head towards the tower again, but now Brother Tang appears, plans in hand, to ask a question about what should be done on the wall today. It seems a couple of the brothers are in dispute. He leads me back to the other brothers to sort through the issue.

It's not until much later that I finally make it to the tower. I open Brendan's door, but he's not there. Of course he's not. Do the monks think me a fool?

"Uncle!"

I whirl around. Brendan is entering the tower behind me.

"I'm feeling much better. I've been trying to find you."

He seems earnest. My suspicions don't vanish, but for now… I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "You've found me. If you are feeling up to it, there is much more to be done…"

I take him to my workroom and send him with a new set of plans for Brother Tang. As he turns to go, I notice a leaf stuck with mud to the sole of his sandal.

"Brendan…"

He turns. But can I really accuse him of anything based on a leaf? Especially when I've assured him I do trust him? My shoulders sag. "Just… I'm glad you're feeling better."

More days go by. Brendan's exhaustion never lifts, even though he goes to bed early each night. He does learn to pace about the workroom while we wait for our food, so he keeps himself awake, but I can see that he is dragging.

It could be many things. It could be the work here, it could be that he is growing… It could be that his sleep is disturbed as mine is by night demons each night.

It could also be that he isn't truly going to bed early, that he's sneaking off for other adventures… Lessons with Aidan, perhaps… Excursions into the forest…

As winter creeps across Kells, I decide I've had enough. Time to see what this boy is up to.

 _Author's Note: There's not much of autumn shown in the movie. But in my headcanon, Brendan works harder than ever on the wall during this time—because he's trying to be very careful to stay off Cellach's radar. If he does what his uncle asks him to 90% of the time, then Cellach is less likely to notice when Brendan ventures into the forest, or sneaks off to the Scriptorium for his illumination lessons._

 _Cellach isn't stupid though, and eventually he realizes something is off. He doesn't seem all that surprised when he catches Brendan sneaking out of Kells to find the Eye of Colmcille…_

 _Most of the "Brother Aidan says" stuff here comes from the chapter book version of Secret of Kells._


	14. Forbidden

**Chapter 14: Forbidden**

It's long after dark as I venture out into Kells. I can't sleep anyway. The refugees pouring into Kells now come from villages very near to us, the Northmen so close, I can practically see them on the horizon. I'm working on the wall more desperately than ever, laboring late into the evening. The wall is nearly done—hopefully enough to keep our enemies out of Kells—but I can't shake the growing sense of danger. I can't shake the feeling that I'm not doing enough to protect these people.  
Yet still the Brothers don't catch my vision. Still they mumble and groan as I call them to the work. Still they wander off into the Scriptorium at every chance.  
Only Brendan labors faithfully beside me, but his strength is failing, and I still don't know why. He goes to bed straight after dinner every night. I let him sleep in later in the mornings. Yet, he's always dragging, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion.  
Tang insists he isn't sick. And as time has gone on, my suspicions have grown. What else is he up to that makes him so weary?  
I told myself I was coming out here to patrol Kells after nightfall, to listen and watch for signs of trouble. They could be upon us at any time. If the Northmen appear, I will sound the warning. We will stay inside the walls until they move on.  
But if I were truly to patrol Kells, I would stay near the walls. Instead, I plant myself near the Scriptorium. Near the hidden passageway into the forest.  
I could be over-thinking things with Brendan. It could all be nothing… or something very dangerous. I feel foolish waiting in the darkness to find out. Even if he does slip out some nights… others he probably stays in the tower. If he doesn't emerge, is that enough witness for me? Or am I daft enough to camp out here, night after night?  
I half expect my nephew to appear from every swirl in the mist. But Kells is quiet and peaceful. We are an abbey, after all. The monks are in bed shortly after dark.  
Then I hear the soft sound of measured footsteps. Someone walking carefully, quietly, to avoid detection. Brendan comes towards the Scriptorium, staring back at the tower as he goes (watching for me?). He fails to look where he is going… and he collides with me.  
His head jerks up to meet my gaze. Dismay slides across his features.  
So. I was right. How long has he been sneaking out behind my back? "You've been forbidden to leave the Abbey," I say. "Now you are also forbidden to enter the Scriptorium." I march towards the tower, leading him back to his cell.  
He doesn't follow me. "Please, Uncle, you don't understand!"  
I glare at him over my shoulder. "Oh, I understand perfectly well!" All my suspicions have been true. In the months since Aidan arrived, Brendan has changed. Now he thinks he knows better than I do. He thinks nothing of deceiving me so he can do as he pleases. And I know exactly who put those ideas in his head. "No more excursions. No more Scriptorium, and no more Brother Aidan."  
"No." Brendan's voice is faint, but I can't mistake the simple word. My eyes narrow. Brendan has never said "No" to me before.  
I turn back to him. "What did you say?" I ask, my voice coming out as a hiss.  
"I can't do that." Brendan looks at the ground, then straightens up to meet my gaze. "I can't give up the Book, Uncle." He shrugs. "If you looked at just one page, you'd see why."  
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Again with the Book, always with the Book…  
"You've forgotten how important it is!" Brendan says. "All you want for us is this wall!"  
So… even my own nephew sees me this way. Obsessed, crazed, oblivious to what matters most in life.  
I thought he understood.  
"Brother Aidan said you were an illuminator once," Brendan says. "He said—"  
"That's enough." Obviously Brendan isn't going to follow me back to the tower. I march back to him and seize his arm, pulling him along with me. I heave a deep sigh. "I was an illuminator once. I was illuminating when word came that my family was under attack. What good did my illuminating do to your parents, hmmm? Should I have stayed at my illumination and let you burn?"  
"Uncle, I didn't mean—"  
We reach the base of the tower. I haul Brendan up the steps. "The Northmen are nearly here! Tell me, Brendan, how often have you gone outside the walls?" I can see he's about to protest. "I know you have. Do you even understand how dangerous it is out there?"  
"It's not just dangerous. There are miracles out there, Uncle!" I drag him to the trap door to his cell, flinging it open. "Brother Aidan says you knew that once…"  
"Enough!" I roar. Brendan's eyes widen and he tries to pull away. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you idolize Brother Aidan. He's distracted you from the things that matter most."  
"But—"  
"Go to your room!" I point at the ladder. Brendan's eyes dart from me to the cell below. His shoulders slump as he climbs down the ladder.  
I didn't want it to come to this. But Brendan has reached a point of open rebellion. Wandering around in the dark, venturing into the forest… What if he was outside the wall when the Northmen came upon us? He is going to get himself killed, and if I can't make him see that, I can at least keep him within Kells where he will be safe.  
Brendan stops beside his bed, craning his neck to look up at me.  
"If I can't trust you to stay out of harm's way," I say, "you'll have to remain here until you see sense!"  
His little face falls, pinched with hurt, but I slam the door and secure it so he can't escape.  
I hesitate for a moment, remembering the pain on his face. I shut my eyes and let out a long sigh. Brendan thinks I am obsessed with the wall. Can't he see that it's Aidan who is obsessed with the Book? Aidan denies the danger of the Northmen even though he's seen for himself what they can do.  
I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to lock my nephew up like an animal. But then I think of his mother, bleeding out in a burning hut. He's too young to understand how dangerous the world is. I'm his uncle, his guardian. It's up to me to keep him safe. But with the Northmen so close, my duties as Abbot last from dawn till long after dusk. I can't keep my eyes on him every moment. If I can't trust him to stay where he is safe, I can't leave him to wander about and take his life in his hands.  
I will not lose my nephew like I lost my sister.  
Someday… Someday, Brendan will understand that I am only doing what I have to, to keep him safe. He used to understand…  
Until Aidan came.  
My fists clench. Brendan is only like this because of Aidan's influence. No doubt the old fool has been filling Brendan's head with all kinds of nonsense, with talk of illumination and the Book. The Book has distracted everyone, not just Brendan. It's time I put the Book out of everyone's sight—maybe then they will awaken to the danger we are in. Maybe then they will help me protect Kells.  
I seize a torch and make my way to the Scriptorium. Brother Aidan is awake inside, slumped behind the back table. He's examining a piece of parchment in his hand. The Book of Iona rests on the table before him.  
"Ah, Abbot Cellach!" he says, sitting upright. He hesitates when he sees the look on my face. "What… what can I do for you?"  
"I found Brendan outside tonight," I say. "On his way to the Scriptorium."  
"Oh?" Aidan's face goes blank. "Abbot, I'm certain he was just—"  
"Coming to see you?" I clench my fists, resisting the urge to strike something. "I have already told him that he is forbidden to leave the Abbey. Now he is no longer allowed to visit the Scriptorium. Or you."  
Aidan's face sags. He lowers the parchment, grasping the table with both hands for support. "Abbot… Why? The Brothers need him here in the Scriptorium. And I have never done him any harm."  
The parchment catches my attention. It's decorated with swirling patterns of leaves and snowdrops. Both things I have seen Brendan sketch on his slate a thousand times before…  
Aidan sees where my gaze has gone. He stiffens.  
"Tell me," I say, "how long have you been teaching the boy to illuminate?"  
Aidan steels himself. "I've taught him some things since I arrived here. The boy is very gifted, Cellach."  
"I specifically told you we don't have time for illumination here," I say. "Brendan isn't allowed to start illumination yet. He's still too young, and there are too many other things I need him to do, for the good of all of Kells! Did he tell you he was forbidden?"  
"You might as well have forbidden a fish to swim," he says calmly. "The boy is a natural. Surely, you've seen his work on his slate…"  
"There will be time to develop that gift later. But only if we are prepared when the Northmen come! If the wall isn't ready, Brendan will die alongside everyone else. And what good will illumination do him then?"  
"I've told you," Aidan's voice lowers, "no wall will keep out the Northmen."  
My eyes narrow so sharply I can barely see.  
Aidan takes a deep breath. "The boy still works on the wall, Cellach. He does everything you ask. You can't fault him for using his free time—"  
"Brendan has been too exhausted to do much of anything lately," I say. "I see why now. He's illuminating all night when he should be sleeping. I've been a fool…"  
Aidan reaches out to me. "Not a fool. But Abbot, surely you can see that Brendan needs—"  
"Don't tell me what _my_ nephew needs!" I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Aidan pulls his hand back. "This will not continue. As I said, he's been forbidden from the Scriptorium, AND from you. Unfortunately, he refused to listen to me. I have locked him in his cell." Aidan's eyes widen. "He will remain there as long as it takes for him to come to his senses."  
Aidan shakes his head. "Cellach," he gestures wildly, "please, don't… don't blame the boy. I'll have a talk with him and—"  
I close my eyes. Aidan knows as well as I do that Brendan would listen to him far better than he ever listens to me. Salt in the wound. "You do no such thing."  
"You can't!" Aidan says.  
I open my eyes. My gaze falls on the Book between us—this is what has made Brendan lose focus. "Brother Tang will bring him his meals," I grasp the Book on the table, "and once there is nothing left here to distract him—"  
As I lift the book, Aidan seizes it too, tugging it away. "Let me keep the book, Cellach. It was entrusted to me."  
I shut my eyes again. He's right. Brendan is my responsibility, and the Book is Aidan's. There are other ways to remove this distraction. "Have it then." I let go. Aidan cradles the book to his chest. "But on the condition that you leave Kells at the first thaw of spring." Aidan's face crumbles. I storm from the Scriptorium before he can argue.  
Once he is gone… once the Book is gone… things will be as they were. Brendan has been distracted, but remove the distractions, and he'll remember the truth. He'll realize that his uncle, his Abbot, knows more than a weary old traveler who refuses to think of the dangers that drove him to Kells.  
And someday, when the wall is done, there will be time for other things. I was a great illuminator once, if not so great as Aidan. I can teach the boy everything that I know.  
But not yet. Other things are more pressing now.  
I decide to patrol Kells in earnest. I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight. Brendan and Aidan's hurt faces rotate through my mind. I shake my head, pushing the images away. They act as though I am unreasonable. What's unreasonable is to ignore the Northmen in favor of pretty pictures.  
Something scratches towards me in the darkness. I whirl… but it is only Pangur Ban, Aidan's cat. "Bah!" She freezes as I see her.  
Even the cat is frightened of me. Does no one understand what I am trying to do?  
I am not a villain… the Northmen are villains. How has everyone forgotten that?  
I remember Brendan when he was small and I first brought him home. The way he watched me with worshipful eyes. He wanted to be just like me. He would give anything to please me.  
What happened to that small boy? Where did I go wrong?


	15. Regrets

Chapter 15: Regrets

My dreams are particularly haunted tonight. Over and over again, I see Brendan's face as I slam his door. I watch Aidan leave Kells only to be devoured by the Northmen.

In my most vivid dream, an eerie melody drifts from the forest. "You must go where I cannot…" I'm at my window, looking down over Kells. I can see Brendan in the distance, crossing through the wall and into the forest.

"Brendan! What are you doing? You are forbidden—"

But he doesn't answer me. A white wolf emerges from the trees and whisks him away on her back. I run down the stairs and outside Kells, trying to find him. I search every corner of the forest… but he's gone.

I jerk awake, only to drift off into another set of nightmares.

It's still long before dawn when I finally give up on sleep. I pause before Brendan's door on my way out of the tower. It's still safely secured. I'm tempted to check on him, but… at this hour, he's surely sleeping. And what could I say to him?

I venture outside and start working on the wall.

Brother Tang joins me as the sun rises. "Abbot?" His hands are folded neatly in front of him. "Last I saw you, you were laboring here after the sun had set. Did you work here all night?"

I shake my head, lifting another stone into place.

"If you exhaust yourself like this," he says softly, "you will pay for it later. If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of Kells."

"There will be time to rest when the wall is done." I heft another stone and move it into place. "Are the other Brothers planning on joining us today?

"They are still at breakfast," Tang says. "Perhaps I can bring you something…"

"No. I'm fine." I sigh, wiping my brow. "But you'll need to take Brendan something."

"Yes, I did notice his absence this morning," Tang says.

"I found him late last night, sneaking off to the Scriptorium," I say. Tang watches me, impassive. Did he know about this already? It's hard to know with him. "I forbid him from visiting there again, and he told me he has no intention of obeying me. So… for now, he is confined to his cell, until he comes to his senses."

Tang's eyes widen at this. "Abbot, he is only a boy. Perhaps if you talk to him—"

"He won't listen to me." I shake my head. "I need you to watch over him. Take him his meals, make sure he stays warm enough. If he says he'd like to apologize, send for me."

Tang stares at me, but finally he nods. "As you wish, Abbot."

He shuffles away, likely back to the refectory. I go back to work on the wall, trying to keep my mind on the labor. It doesn't work. Somehow I feel as though Ceather is close to me today… As though if I turned, I would find her there, watching me with disapproval.

"What else was I to do, Ceather?" I mumble. "He won't listen to me anymore. I can't ignore that, especially now, when the Northmen are nearly upon us. I just want to keep him _safe_."

No one answers me, of course.

The sun has crept up much higher when Tang reappears, a tray of food balanced in his hands. He holds it out towards me. "Your breakfast, Abbot."

I stare down at his offering, absently rubbing my left shoulder. It's early in the day, but already my arms begin to ache. "Have you fed Brendan yet?" Maybe a night confined made Brendan see sense. Maybe he's already asking for me.

"No," Tang says. "You look as though you are on the brink of collapse. You shouldn't work so hard with no food or sleep—"

I wave my hand, cutting him off. "Take it to Brendan," I say. I sigh, shutting my eyes as I pinch the bridge of my nose. Brendan's probably starving. I want him to know he's still safe—he's not a child in an old tale, locked up without food or water as punishment. "See if…" _See if he_ _'s all right. See if he hates me._ "See if he's come to his senses."

Tang hesitates for an instant, but then he takes his leave. I go back to lifting stone, pushing myself to work harder than ever. I just need to focus on one moment at a time. Lift one stone, then another. Consult the plans to check my work. Try not to think of Brendan and how he should be here, bringing the plans to me.

Is he frightened, alone in his cell? I've never done anything like this before. Before Tang came to him, did Brendan think I would let him go without food? Or… could it be that he regrets last night as much as I do? Maybe he wants to apologize. Maybe Tang will return with news that my nephew wishes to speak with me.

I keep a sharp eye out for Tang. It takes him a long time to return to the wall, and he never comes to report to me. I know what that means. He doesn't wish to be the bearer of bad news.

I've probably made everything worse by locking Brendan away. Did this just cement in his brain that Aidan is right, that the wall is all I care for? How could I do anything else, though? I can't lose him. If I can't trust him to stay in Kells where he is safe, I can't leave him free to wander about and get himself killed.

 _You_ _'ve already lost him, though._ I shove the thought away. No. Once Aidan is gone, things will be as they were. But that just makes me think of Aidan—an old man who has already lost so much, someone who came to me for help and shelter, someone who was once a friend… and the look on his face when I told him he was no longer welcome here.

Back to the wall. Just focus on the wall. That's all everyone else believes I think about.

As sunset approaches, the Brothers fade away from the wall, finding their way back to the refectory for their evening meal. I keep working. One stone, then another… The Northmen could be here any day, I can't stop…

Tang finds me again, more food prepared on a tray. I straighten up as he approaches. "Did Brendan—"

"Yes, he's eaten." Tang hands the tray to me. "Now, you _must_ eat. You are going to make yourself ill."

I lean back against the wall, examining the food before me. He's brought me some sort of lentil soup, a loaf of bread, and some water. "Did Brendan… Did he say anything?"

Tang's face is solemn. "He doesn't wish to give up the Scriptorium, Abbot. He doesn't want to give up illumination."

"I see." I rip some bread from the loaf. "I'm not asking him to give it up always. But there is a time for such things, and now is not the time."

"I know your thoughts on this, Abbot." He keeps his voice calm, but he sounds scolding anyway. "Perhaps if he only ventured to the Scriptorium after his work was done—"

"He tried that. It didn't go well." I sigh again. "If he is to be Abbot one day, he needs to learn how to prioritize. Protecting Kells should be his first, greatest goal. He has made it clear that his heart lies elsewhere."

"But, Abbot…" Tang's voice trails off as I wave him away.

"Thank you, Tang. You may go."

Tang straightens up to his full height—which is surpassed by most of the children in the village. "I'm not leaving until you eat."

I shake my head, but I listen to him. After a day of hard labor with no food, I have regained my appetite. The food disappears in short order.

After Tang takes the tray from me, I lift another stone. I'm not ready to return to my workroom, to the empty silence there that can't distract me from my churning thoughts.

"Abbot," Tang says, "it's late. You should—"

"You don't have to mother me, Tang," I snap. "I have more to do. I'll turn in eventually."

He bows his head. "All right, Abbot." He moves off, and descends a step or two down the ladder. "Just talk to him," he says in parting. "Stop torturing yourself."

I look up, but he's already disappeared.

I stay where I am, working until I'm finally too tired to go on. At last I trudge back towards the tower, head drooping. I wonder how Brendan spent his day. What must he think of me? Is he angry? I can't remember him ever being angry with me, not truly. He's the sort of child who responds with guilt and sadness when he is chastised… never anger of his own.

But he chose to stay alone in his cell all day rather than take back his words. Tang says he won't give up illumination.

Once I was a boy who wanted nothing more than to illuminate.

I find myself standing beside Brendan's trap door, just staring. Surely one day of punishment was enough. I want to see him. I want to talk to him. All day I missed having him at my side.

I stretch my hand out, ready to pull out the rod securing the door. But I sigh, drawing my hand back. I can't give in so easily. Brendan needs to obey me for his own safety. He won't stay in there forever… He'll come to his senses soon.

And… what would we say to each other, anyway? I cannot change my stance, and it sounds as though he hasn't changed his. Talking will only bring greater pain to both of us.

I drag myself up the stairs towards my workroom. Maybe tomorrow, things will be different.


	16. Out of Time

Chapter 16: Out of Time

The next day does not go better, nor the next.

Each time I ask Tang for news of Brendan, it is the same. Brendan will not give up the Scriptorium. It seems he would prefer to stay imprisoned in his cell rather than listen to his uncle. The rejection stings more than it should.

He can't stay in there forever… Can he? Surely he'll come to his senses soon. I think about speaking with him but… I still don't know what to say to him. I don't know that he even wants to speak with me. And there is so much to be done on the wall, I don't dare leave it for a moment. I push the Brothers harder than ever. For once… they don't seem to mind. Maybe they can tell I'm distraught over Brendan. Or maybe they're just afraid I'll lock them up, too. Either way… they're more attentive than before. They listen to my speeches about the wall, and even ask questions or ask me to repeat things later so they can remember. They're consulting me more often on their work, taking me aside to show their progress. They are more vigilant too—sometimes fetching me to another part of the wall because they saw or heard something strange.

Of course, this doesn't extend to all the Brothers. One morning I'm going over my plans with a group of them when an explosion echoes across Kells. We all jump, staring off at the Scriptorium. Thick green clouds of smoke billow out of the doors.

I scowl. I haven't seen Aidan since our last discussion. Apparently he's busy making ink. Even now, even when threatened with exile, all his attention is focused on his precious Book. I suppose I half expected Brendan and Aidan to repent after our last discussion, to apologize to me for going behind my back. But even when faced with harsh consequences, they would rather cling to their precious illumination. They would both rather go without speaking to me again than give up their work on the Book.

More days go by… then a week.

I keep picturing Brendan trapped in his room, bored and alone. It can't be healthy for a growing boy to stay locked up every day. It's probably counter intuitive to my purpose, but I tell Tang that Brendan is permitted to work in the garden for a few hours each day. He is not to visit the Scriptorium or do anything else—just the chores in the garden. I try to watch for him, but Brendan only seems to venture into the gardens when I'm on the other side of Kells. It's obvious he's avoiding me. I ask Tang about it, but all he'll say is that I should talk to the boy. There are many nights when I think about it… When I find myself hovering outside his door. But I just can't seem to bring myself to reach out. I always catch myself thinking, tomorrow. Tomorrow, if he doesn't change his mind, I'll talk to him. Then I go upstairs to lose myself in my nightmares for a few hours. The same scenes I've seen a thousand times before—Kells ripped to shreds by the Northmen, villagers screaming as they burn.

But one night, I dream something very different. I'm young again. I'm sitting in the forest, parchment in front of me as I illuminate a page with illustrations of leaves and snowdrops. As I bend over the parchment, my long hair slides forward, and I shove it back behind my ear.

"Cellach." Ceather comes towards me, clothed all in white. She's cradling baby Brendan in her arms, and he giggles, stretching up a hand towards her face.

"Ceather!" I straighten up. "You… you shouldn't be here." Why not, though? I try to remember.

She smiles, kneeling beside me and stroking my cheek with one hand. "You always work so hard. You need to relax more. Come eat with us again tonight. We don't see enough of you."

"I can't." I gesture at the page in my grasp. "I need to finish this. I'm almost done, but I can't quite seem to get it right. A couple more days work…"

"And nights," she says. "I know you."

"Once it's done, I'll have more time," I say, "And then…"

"Then you'll be on to your next project." She shakes her head at me, but she's still smiling.

Brendan is cooing now, waving his arms to get his mother's attention. She kisses his little forehead and then hands him to me, pulling the parchment free in one deft move.

"Now wait a moment—" I protest, but she just laughs and scoots out of my reach.

Brendan squirms around, so I hold him close to make sure I don't drop him. He snuggles against me and yawns, his little eyes sliding closed.

"Oh, Cellach." Ceather's smile seems sad now, her gaze at her baby longing. "You are out of time."

"What?"

"Do you remember the last time I invited you to dinner?" she says. "Oh, I probably shouldn't have… You'd just eaten with us, but all you would talk about was your latest illumination, and I wanted you to come back the next day and bring it with you."

"Yes," I say, "But I couldn't. I still needed to finish it, and I knew it would take a few more days… a few late nights… I promised I would bring it when I was done."

"Do you remember why you didn't?"

My forehead wrinkles as I concentrate. "I don't think I ever finished it… Something happened…" Suddenly I'm somewhere else—a hut in flames, Ceather's body stretched across the floor as Brendan wails in my arms. One blink, and I'm with my sister in the forest again.

Ceather looks me straight in the eye. "Don't feel bad. You couldn't have known."

I hold my nephew tighter. This is impossible. Brendan isn't a baby anymore. And Ceather can't be here.

"But I should have been there," I whisper. "Maybe I could have saved all of you."

"I don't regret your absence," she says. "If you'd been with us, you would have died too. And then there would have been no one to save my baby." She reaches out to brush her fingers through Brendan's baby curls. "But you… You've never stopped regretting it, have you? You've spent your whole life trying to make up for it, trying to keep it from happening again."

"I can't let it happen again." My throat is closing up. "I can't lose him too. And so many people depend on me… Don't you understand?"

"Of course I do!" Ceather says. She sighs. "You're a good man. And you will _always_ be a hero to me. I want you to remember that. But, Cellach…" She shakes her head. "You can't always stop bad things from happening. Sometimes, all you can do is enjoy the good things while they last." She leans forward, resting her hand over mine. " _You are out of time_ _._ Don't let it end like this. You are carrying too many regrets already."

Brendan wakes and starts wailing. I rock him, shushing him, trying to soothe him.

And then he's gone. One moment he's in my arms and the next he's vanished. "Brendan?" I jump up, searching around me for any sign of him. I look to my sister, but she's gone too. "Ceather?"

The forest erupts into flames.

I jerk awake, sitting up so sharply I almost tumble out of bed. I press both hands against my forehead. That felt so _real_ _._ Ceather's words still echo in my head. _You are out of time_ _. Don_ _'t let it end like this._ Is it true? Are the Northmen here even now? I dress quickly and rush from the tower.

It's not quite dawn, but Brother Molan is in his place already.

"Has anything happened this morning?" I ask. "Any new refugees, any sign of trouble?"

"No, Abbot." He says. He scratches at his beard. "All seems quiet."

"…All right." I force a deep breath. "I want you to keep a very close eye out today. I have a feeling there's trouble coming."

"I always do, Abbot."

I scan the walls, noting all the holes, all the weaknesses. If I am truly out of time, where is the most important place to shore up before the Northmen arrive? My eyes fall on a section of the east wall where the wall is lower than at any other point. I won't waste Ceather's warning. I won't let it end like this. I will keep working to the last moment. This wall _will_ save us—it's the only thing that can.

I devote my day to insisting that the Brothers work faster. But it's almost as if my urging makes the Brothers slow down. They are grumbling again, pretending they don't know that I can hear. I can't help thinking how much more quickly this work would go if Brendan were here to help me. No one else has a knack for finding just the right section of plans from my collection. No one else can run as quickly to deliver plans where they need to be. I need his help. Today, his absence seems selfish. He's old enough now to know better than to sulk in his room. Why hasn't he come to his senses yet?

But then… I haven't listened to Tang. I haven't talked to Brendan since the night I locked him in his cell. He hasn't come out on his own… but maybe Brendan is ready to listen to me. After dinner, I hurry to the tower, but Tang intercepts me as I reach Brendan's door.

"He's had a difficult day, Abbot," Tang says. "He's already asleep. It's best to let him rest."

My shoulders sag. "Of course he's asleep." I press a hand to my forehead. "Just tell me the truth, Tang. He doesn't want to speak to me."

"Actually, I think he wants to speak to you very much," Tang says. "I think his concern is that you won't listen to him."

"I'm not the one who needs to be listening," I say. "He's a child. He needs guidance. He needs to obey me, for his own protection."

"He is growing, Abbot," Tang says. "No one stays a child forever. And… besides, sometimes even the young have wisdom that their elders lack."

"What are you saying?"

"That Brendan is a good boy," Tang says, "and he loves you very much. Don't let this wound fester between you."

He leaves without so much as a backward glance. I sigh, massaging my forehead. I know he's right. Somehow, I need to patch this up, and soon. My dream reminds me that we aren't guaranteed a tomorrow. But… the boy is sleeping… so tomorrow it will have to be.

I rise early the next morning. Too early. I pause beside Brendan's door, but I don't want to wake him yet. I'll come back a little later. I head to the chapel, where I kneel and bow my head in prayer. I pray for the safety of Kells, for wisdom in my duties, for guidance in knowing how to reach out to my nephew.

I can hear the chapel door open. Strange. The Brothers know not to disturb me during my morning devotions. I stay focused on my prayer. It may be one of the new refugees who doesn't yet understand our ways.

Someone limps up the aisle towards me. I can hear the uneven rhythm of their footfalls. That's when I know. _You are out of time._

I open my eyes. A man stands before me, clutching his injured shoulder.

"Abbot," he says hoarsely, "I bear ill tidings." He pauses, wincing. He closes his eyes, gathering himself. "The Northmen are nearly upon you. They have plundered the monastery and the village at Kilchoil… I just barely managed to save myself. They are headed this way, even now."

Words fail me. I turn away from him, my eyes sliding closed again, and finish my prayer. _Deliver us from evil_ _…_

Finally I raise my head. "How much time do we have?" I ask.

"Perhaps a day," the man says. "Maybe less."

I stand. His sleeve is soaked with blood. He is swaying on his feet even now. "Thank you for coming to warn us," I say. "Let's find a brother to bandage your wounds." I help him to the infirmary, half carrying him as he stumbles along. Tang isn't there, but Brother Liam is also a skilled healer, and he takes the man inside. I find another brother to send for food.

So. The time has come. There is much that still needs to be done, but… I stand, surveying the wall around Kells. It isn't perfect, and it isn't finished. But the walls are high, the fortifications sound. We will be safe here until the Northmen pass by. A whisper of doubt twists through my mind, and I shove it away. Now is not the time to falter.

I make my way towards the tower. I have many responsibilities to attend to, but first, I need to tell Brendan. I want him to hear it from me. I don't want him to be frightened and confused as he hears the sounds of Kells preparing. And I want to keep him close beside me today where I know he is safe.

I pull the rod from his door, taking a deep breath as I lift it open. "Brendan…"

His room is empty, abandoned. The bed is already made.

But… he could not have gotten out on his own… The rod was still in place…

I drop the door, letting it thud closed. It's not hard to guess who has helped him. Someone who doesn't hesitate to undermine my authority, both as the boy's uncle and as the Abbot here.

I make my way towards the Scriptorium, my anger growing with every second.


	17. Betrayal

Chapter 17: Betrayal

The Vikings are attacking, and I don't know where my nephew is.

I rush towards the Scriptorium. I banned Brendan from working with Aidan, and the boy refused to obey me. It seems Aidan refused also. All the ink explosions lately should have clued me in… They've been working together on their precious Book. All this time I thought Brendan was safely secured in his room… unhappy, perhaps, but _safe_ _…_ And he took the first opportunity to run back to Aidan and his drawing lessons, to go against my wishes and deliberately disobey me.

They better _still_ be working on their precious book… and not in the depths of the forest somewhere, searching for materials for ink. If they are outside the walls… what if I can't find them before the Northmen get here?

How could Brendan do this? His entire life I taught him to obey me, to stay inside Kells where he is safe, to focus on the Wall so we can protect the people that turn to us to save them. He knew I was furious when I found him outside… He knew he was to stay in his room… How could he go against me with so little remorse?

I reach the Scriptorium. I swing the door open wide. ALL of the Illuminators draw back with a gasp. ALL of them, even Tang. But I ignore them, staring to the back of the room.

Brendan sits at the far table, his eyes huge with fear. He's clutching a quill in one hand. Before him, I can see color splashed across a parchment.

My shoulders relax slightly. At least he is here. But my eyes narrow. I was right not to trust him. He doesn't care what I say anymore.

I surge across the room towards him. Aidan spreads his arms and tries to block my path. "Please… Please, Abbot, it's my fault." I shove him out of my way. I know _that_ already. But no matter what Aidan said… no matter what he encouraged Brendan to do… Brendan should have chosen to listen to _me_. Everyone in this room has betrayed me, but Brendan's betrayal rips me in half.

Brendan seizes the framed parchment before him and pulls it closer.

"You little fool," I say. "The Northmen are upon us. And here you are… drawing!"

I seize the frame before him, pulling the parchment free and crumpling it in my fist.

Brendan's head droops. The Brothers gasp. I swing around to face them.

"We have one day before the Vikings attack Kells!"

The Brothers stare up at me, faces twisted in fear.

"The gate won't hold!" Brother Square cries.

"We must… we must run from here!" Aidan says.

Why do they continue to think so little of my walls? While they were wasting their time on drawing, I have been slaving away to protect all of us. This is the time when they should finally appreciate that—when they should be apologizing and turning to me to protect them. Instead, they doubt me.

"The gate _will_ hold!" I snap. "You will lead the new refugees into the chapel. They can seek comfort there until the attackers move on." The most important thing to do now is keep people calm. "Tang, tell the villagers to stay in their huts."

The Brothers nod and stumble out of the Scriptorium, whispering anxiously to one another.

I follow after them.

"Cellach…" Aidan says.

At the door I turn back. Brendan trails behind me. It seems he's decided to follow me again. My stare shifts from my nephew to my old friend. Aidan's words echo in my mind. _"We must run from here!"_ I have no doubt that Aidan will act on those words. The moment I turn my back, the old fool will flee the walls, probably straight into the path of the Northmen.

And Brendan will go with him.

Unless I act to keep them here. "You'll be safe in here with your precious Book!" I slam the door and lock it. There will be no escaping this time—I hold the only key to the scriptorium.

I survey Kells around me. Most of the Illuminators are herding the new refugees towards the chapel. Tang is going hut by hut, urging villagers to stay inside. So far, people obey quickly. I see fear in their wide eyes as they listen to Tang, to the Brothers. But there is no panic yet.

If Aidan were out here, there would be panic. He would be encouraging them to leave—I'm sure of it—convinced he was saving them, not realizing he was sending them to their doom. I've done the right thing. Brendan's sad, regretful face slips into my mind, but I shove the image away. There is much to do.

I organize a group of Brothers to carry food and supplies into the tower. The walls will hold, but it's better to be safe than sorry—the tower would be our sanctuary in a wall breach.

I find my way back up to my workroom. I want a bird's eye view of Kells. From my window, all seems calm. The villagers are heeding our warnings and taking shelter. A snow storm drops gentle snowflakes down—more reason for all to stay inside.

I turn back to my desk, looking at the plans scattered about. There is still so much work that needs to be completed, but… the walls are tall enough that we should be safe.

Somewhere in the distance, a raven calls. I glance at my window. The Pagans say that ravens are harbingers of death. That's the last noise they need to hear right now. Fortunately the bird doesn't cry out again.

I realize I'm still clenching Brendan's parchment in my hand. Despite myself, I lay it on the table, smoothing it flat. What has the boy been working on so hard?

I don't know what I expected to see, but not this. The artwork before me is unimaginably intricate. My eyes widen as I examine the details. It's the work of a master, not a young boy. Aidan told me the boy was talented, but _this_ _… Brendan_ did this? At such a young age? If he continues on this path, he could easily surpass even Brother Aidan in skill. I feel a surge of pride for my nephew.

But… I shouldn't be proud. I told the boy he wasn't allowed to draw. I've done everything in my power to shut down his lessons.I thought there wasn't time, that it was a waste of effort.

This talent did not come from me. Clearly it is a gift from God—and Brendan has chosen to dedicate this gift to Him, to use his skill to illuminate God's sacred word. That is a selfless choice. Why have I judged him so harshly? And what about Aidan? I've promised him banishment…

I'm pulled from my thoughts by another raven's cry. Enough. There isn't time for this now. I fumble for my cloak. I need to get outside and help with the villagers.


	18. Invasion

Chapter 18: Invasion

I stand at the base of the tower, staring at the village gate. The Northmen are near now… Somehow I can feel it. And there's nothing more I can do. I feel the pressure of hundreds of frightened souls in Kells, all waiting to see if I will keep my promise. Will the wall keep us safe? _Of course it will._

Tang approaches me. "The villagers are in their huts, Abbot," he says, his voice subdued. "The latest refugees are in the Chapel."

"Thank you, Tang."

"What shall I do next?"

I gesture behind me. "This is still our last place of sanctuary. I don't think we will need it, but… it would be foolish to leave it unmanned."

Tang inclines his head. "Yes, Abbot. And you?"

"I will remain here," I say. "Just… just in case."

I hear his slow footsteps up to the tower, then the creaking as the door opens. He doesn't close it. I raise a hand, gesturing at him to go inside, and finally I hear the door shut. No need for him to stay out in the cold. No need for anyone else to keep watch. There will be nothing to see.

But if I believe that, why are my eyes locked to the gate?

 _Boom._ I jump despite myself. _Boom._ Something thuds against the gate, over and over in a constant rhythm. _A battering ram._ Brother Square's words echo through my mind: _The gate won_ _'t hold!_ The wall is strong, but did I do enough to strengthen the gate?

There is nothing for it now. This will be the ultimate test.

A flock of ravens soars above Kells, shrieking their hideous cries. Around me, the villagers cry out, fleeing their huts. They view those cries as harbingers of death.

"No…" The gate shudders with each blow. I can't look away. "Not yet…" They've come too soon. We aren't ready.

Villagers run past in every direction, desperately seeking better shelter. I drag my attention to them. With both hands out, I plead with them, "Stay inside!" We mustn't panic yet. All my careful planning, all the years of work… We are not helpless as Ceather and Bronach were when their village fell. The wall will save us. It _must_.

My eyes are still upon the villagers when burning metal pierces my shoulder. I collapse, clutching at the wound. How…? I force my eyes open to see an arrow embedded in my flesh.

Scores of flaming arrows rain down upon Kells now, setting huts aflame.

I moan, sinking into my pain. Arrows… Of course. Even if they don't get inside, they've found a way to kill us from without.

How could I have ever thought a wall would save us? I close my eyes, willing this to be another dream.

A small hand touches my head. It's Bree's small daughter, Fiona, run to me for help. She stares ahead and gasps, pressing both hands to her little face. I follow her gaze.

The gate trembles one last time… and falls. The Northmen march in, swords raised.

I grab the child, shielding her with my body. "Tang, open the door!" We have one chance left.

Tang throws open the door. He gasps at the scene before him.

"Into the tower!" I call. I drag myself to my feet and scoop Fiona up with my good arm. I set her on the tower stairs as high as I can reach. The effort still strains my injured shoulder until tears sting my eyes. One last glance at me, then Fiona scampers up to Tang. Where is her mother?

Villagers and monks alike surge forward in waves, shoving one another in their rush to reach the tower. Some are too far to have any hope. Northmen fall upon the stragglers, wielding their blades with no mercy.

One man isn't running. Brother Molan stands directly before the Northmen, gripping a hammer. Surely he's not so crazed as to take them on himself? He hasn't a chance! "Molan!" I call. But it's too late. He swings his hammer at a Northman as another Viking drives a sword through his gut.

I turn from the carnage and try to focus on the villagers before me. "One at a time!" They are too panicked to heed my warning. They rush up to the tower, but soon so many are crammed onto the stairs that they can hardly move.

Brother Liam is next in line to climb the steps, but suddenly he moves back, waving on the people behind him.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I can't save my life at the expense of someone else's," he says. "Godspeed, Abbot." He runs off into the chaos.

I glance towards the Northmen, trying to gauge how much time we have. A row of Northmen archers watch us, smirking. They direct their flaming arrows at the steps. Crackling fire spreads beneath the villagers' feet.

"The steps aren't strong enough…" So many failings in my grand plan. Why didn't I foresee this?

Somewhere the wood cracks, a short sharp sound that freezes my blood. The villagers shriek louder than before, trying to push past each other to reach the top.

There is nothing I can do. "Tang, there are too many!" I cry. Maybe somehow, he can still help us. If he can just get those people inside… Bree is at the top of the steps now, but she has to wrestle her way into the tower. No… The tower can't be full already! Tang is just as helpless as I. The words escape me, "It's too late…" The steps collapse. Villagers spill to the earth, still screaming. Their bodies land, twisted, in the flaming remnants beneath.

My mouth falls open. I scan the ruins desperately for any sign of movement. Surely some of them survived. Some were not so far from the ground when it collapsed… But no one stirs. Those below were crushed by the weight of those above.

I force myself from the sight. The pain in my shoulder throbs. I bow my head, eyes closed, and offer a frantic prayer. Around me, the people of Kells try desperately to flee. But the wall was only built to keep the Northmen out. Now instead, it keeps the villagers trapped within, penned like animals waiting for slaughter.

 _Trapped._

My head snaps upright. "Brendan!" I've left him locked in the Scriptorium. I whirl towards the building. Already, its roof is burning. Even now he could be choking on the smoke.

I glance back towards the Vikings. They've spotted me, giant that I am. They are coming for me.

I grit my teeth and run. I've outrun Northmen before. I can do it again.

But my steps are uneven. The pain in my shoulder cripples me, slows me. No. I must be faster. If I can just open that door… Brendan and Aidan will still have a chance.

I hear the steps of the Northmen behind me. I try to push myself harder.

Vikings come up on either side of me. I'm an easy target. They swing their swords, but I manage to dodge. The movement jars my shoulder and I stagger.

They could make short work of me, but they don't. Are they toying with me?

Now their attention is focused on each other. I don't understand their words, but they seem to disagree about something. One shoves the other. I take the chance to dart away. _Faster, come on!_ Brendan's life hangs in the balance, what is a little pain? But my body doesn't heed me. My steps are still far too slow.

I keep my eyes locked on the Scriptorium door. Only a little farther… What if Brendan and Aidan have already succumbed to the flames? As I watch, the Scriptorium flickers in my vision. For just an instant it becomes a burning hut, a baby screaming inside. _I_ _'m coming, Brendan!_

And then everything freezes. Cold metal slices through my back. My body seems to tear in half. Everything vanishes except the pain.

Darkness.

" _UNCLE!_ _"_ Brendan's voice, more heartbroken and frightened than I've ever heard it before. " _NO!_ _"_

 _Brendan!_ I struggle back to consciousness, dragging myself towards that voice. Something is wrong. Brendan needs me.

I open my eyes, disoriented at first. Where am I? What…?

In front of me, three Northmen leave the Scriptorium, weapons held high.

I'm too late. "Brendan…" Tears slide down my face. He was calling for me to save him… I try to lift myself up, but I collapse again, writhing in pain. Darkness overcomes me.

A gentle hand touches my shoulder. I groan.

"He's alive!" Tang's voice.

Am I… on the ground? What am I doing on the ground? There is work to be done. Is something… burning? I try to make sense of it, but I can't focus. I'm so tired… Everything hurts. I don't want to wake up. But I force my eyes open. "I'm so tired…"

In front of me, the Scriptorium is a burnt husk.

Reality crushes down upon me. Somewhere inside, Brendan's body has faded to ash, like his parents' before him.

"Tang, leave me be." My back and shoulder scream in agony. I'm laying in a puddle of my blood. If he leaves me be… I can slip away with Brendan, and Aidan, and all the others. If anyone deserves to perish today, it is me. "Please, leave me be." I close my eyes.

"You are the Abbot of Kells!" Tang says. "You must get up!"

His words cut through me more surely than the sword did. I look up at Tang, at the far too small circle of survivors. Their expressions are frightened, pleading.

I have failed in all my responsibilities as an Abbot. These people came to me for protection, and I couldn't protect them. But even so… I'm all they have. They need me… They need me to do what little I can. And surely, I owe them that.

I try to sit up. Tang and some of the villagers help me to my feet.

"We must search for survivors," I say. "There may be injured."

But Tang only bows his head. "We've already searched, Abbot. You are the only one we've found."

"The… only…?" My gaze draws back to the Scriptorium. Then I force myself to face all of Kells… a sea of burned huts, of broken bodies… Not far from me, Bree and Aigneis kneel beside a still form as Fiona buries her face in her mother's shoulder… Bree is murmuring to her daughter, "Don't look, don't look." I realize it's Ivor, Aigneis's husband. Aigneis gently pulls off her head scarf and drapes it over his face.

I shake my head and turn away. I promised them they would never face this again. Wait. Where are Niamh and her baby? I scan Kells, but there is no sign of them, just more mourning souls trying to put the dead to rest. But… I thought I saw them go up the tower stairs… My throat tightens. They must not have made it to the tower. A woman with a babe in arms!

I sag forward, almost collapsing again. The villagers around me hold me up as best they can.

"He's very weak," Tang says. "We must get him back to the tower right away." He takes my hand and guides me forward.

I look up towards the tower and catch sight of the chapel—the roof burned away. I seize Tang's robe. "Tang… The Chapel?"

Tang just shakes his head. Tears fill his eyes before he looks away.

"The Illuminators? The new refugees?"

"As I said, Abbot," Tang says softly, "we are all that is left."

This time I fall to my knees. My head slumps forward. I should not have gotten up. I cannot bear this. Brendan, Aidan, the villagers, my brothers… I have failed them all. What right do I have to survive when they have fallen?

Tang lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Abbot, we all feel as you do," he says. "But as long as any of us are alive, we must not give up. These people are as sheep without a shepherd, after the wolves have come through the flock. They are lost, they are frightened, and they are looking to you for help, even now." I stare back at him, the words barely registering. "We still need you, Abbot," Tang says. "Please—you must get up. We will not leave you. But we are not safe unless we go back inside the tower." Still I stare. "Please, Abbot," Tang says, "help me get the people to the tower."

Finally I nod. "Yes, of course." I limp forward slowly. It takes many villagers on all sides to keep me upright. I have no idea how I will climb the rope ladder dangling from the tower door.

But somehow I will do it, no matter how much it hurts. The pain is far less than I deserve.

It seems unjust that I should survive when so many did not. But perhaps surviving is the true punishment for my failure. Not to perish at the Vikings' hands and reach heaven's peace, but to survive, to live on and face the aftermath of my mistake.

To keep living when Brendan did not. There could not be a worse punishment than that.


End file.
